Hell Divers Series | Book 8 | King of the Wastes

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

“I think that’s about twenty-three more.”

  “Maybe Magnolia will be back by the time we get there,” Rodger said. “Better get moving—she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  He pulled ahead, swimming faster than Michael had seen him go since they abandoned the lifeboat.

  “That’s the spirit, pal, but pace yourself,” Michael said.

  They pushed onward, but neither of them kept up the pace, and an hour later they were sucking air, exhausted. And they were almost through an entire bottle of water.

  Michael handed it to Rodger. “Drink the rest,” he said.

  “I’m okay,” Rodger replied. He stared up at the sky. “I think it’s getting lighter on the horizon.

  Michael studied the clouds. Lightning tendriled through the bulges.

  “No, I don’t—aagh!” He screamed as something bumped into his foot.

  “What!” Rodger cried.

  “Something touched me!” Michael said.

  Rodger flailed in the water until Michael grabbed him and pulled him close.

  “Hold on to me and don’t fucking move,” Michael said. “Got it?”

  Rodger nodded, eyes wide.

  Slowly Michael eased Cricket’s dry bag out of his suit, but Rodger tightened his grip.

  “Loosen up,” Michael whispered. “I need to get Cricket booted up.”

  “You said don’t move . . .”

  “I know, but . . .”

  Rodger was right; not moving was better.

  The next few minutes felt like an eternity, but nothing came up to snatch them or tear them into octopus chum.

  “Maybe it was just debris,” Michael said.

  “Could it be your mind playing tricks?”

  “No way.”

  Scanning the waves, Michael searched for any floating debris that might have bumped him. If something was floating in the water, they could hold on to it.

  In a lightning flash, Michael spotted movement—something smooth in the rough water.

  Holding on to Rodger, he turned around, making a complete revolution.

  “What?” Rodger said in a feathery voice. “Did you see something? I can’t see . . .”

  “Quiet.”

  In the next flash of lightning, he saw what had touched his foot.

  A fin sliced the surface.

  Not just one.

  Three fins circled the divers.

  Michael’s heart sank—not with fear but with despair. He wasn’t going to see Layla or Bray again.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered.

  “What?” Rodger cried.

  Michael tightened his grip with his robotic arm, silencing Rodger.

  “Listen very carefully,” Michael whispered.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Three sharks are circling us, and if we stick together and don’t move, we’ll be fine, okay?”

  “Three . . . sharks?”

  Michael instantly regretted telling Rodger, whose voice had jumped an octave. The slight movement attracted one of the fins. It approached.

  Without so much as a stick between them, the two men were helpless.

  Closing his eyes, Michael prepared for the end.

  “Watch out!” Rodger yelled.

  Michael opened his eyes as a gray body leaped over them, rotating on its axis the whole way before splashing into the water. Two more of the big creatures jumped and came crashing down.

  “Those aren’t sharks!” Rodger shouted. “It’s a pod of spinner dolphins!”

  Michael let go of Rodger and turned to watch the mammals jumping and cavorting in the dark water.

  He reached out a shaking hand, and one swam over, making a moaning and then a whistling sound. Then it gave him a little bump.

  “I think it wants to give us a ride,” Michael said.

  Rodger kicked over to them.

  “We’re saved!” he announced. “They are going to rescue us!”

  Michael grinned ear to ear as he touched the wet dolphin flesh. The creature kept up the whistling until he put a hand on its dorsal fin. Another dolphin nudged up against him on his left.

  He grabbed the fin with his other hand.

  As soon as he did, the two creatures swam away, pulling him over the water.

  “Hold on, Rodger, they’re going to take us home!” Michael yelled.

  Laughing deliriously, Rodger grabbed two fins.

  Michael closed his eyes to protect them from the sting of salt water as the dolphins picked up speed, their broad tails powering them almost effortlessly through the water.

  He held on tight and opened his eyes again as lightning forked across the skyline.

  In the wake of the glow, Michael noticed scars on the flesh of the dolphin at his left. He instantly recognized this animal from the islands. It was the same one Magnolia had spoken of over a year ago—the same dolphin she and X had helped save from ending up on a Cazador dinner table.

  Now it was returning the favor.

  But how had it known they were here? Or that they were friends?

  The Cazadores were known for eating anything and everything in the sea that they didn’t worship. Maybe these magnificent creatures could somehow tell that these two humans were different.

  Whatever the case, these dolphins were saving them.

  Michael held on the best he could, but eventually, his hand began to cramp. He didn’t want to switch to his robotic hand, which would hurt his rescuer.

  After an hour of swimming, the animals stopped to rest, circling, jumping, and making their distinctive spins, glossy in the lightning’s glow.

  They returned, and the journey continued for another hour until Michael suddenly felt both his mounts dive under the waves. Forced to let go, he kicked back up to the surface, bobbing in his life jacket.

  “Where are they going?” Rodger shouted.

  Michael swam over to his friend. He grabbed him and held on as the fins vanished into the ocean. For the next few minutes, the two men turned and turned, searching for their friends.

  “They left us,” Rodger said. “Why would they leave us?”

  Michael kept searching the darkness, trying to pick out dorsal fins in the water, but all he was saw were waves.

  After a few minutes, it became clear. Their rescuers had gone.

  He rolled to his back and booted up Cricket.

  “Where are we?” Rodger asked.

  “Eighteen miles from the closest rig,” Michael said. He put the device back into his pouch and took a drink of water.

  “Come back!” Rodger shouted. “Don’t leave us!”

  “Stop yelling,” Michael said.

  “come back!”

  “Rodger, stop it, man . . .”

  He quit speaking when he heard the rumble. It started as a low hum, then rose into a loud whining noise. At first, Michael thought it was a watercraft. He stared out over the water, trying to spot a boat, until a deep humming came from directly overhead.

  Glancing up, he saw what had spooked the dolphins.

  A beetle-shaped airship lowered from the clouds, spotlights on its bow and stern sweeping over the waters.

  “Mags!” Rodger shouted.

  Michael let out a long, deep sigh as the ship descended, its turbofans blasting them with wind.

  “See?” Michael said. “I told you we’d be going home—I just didn’t realize it would be to our first home!”

  “The Hive just keeps on saving us,” Rodger said.

  Fifteen

  Magnolia listened to the cable winch whine and strain, pulling Rodger up out of the sea. She had checked it three times and was still nervous.

  “Almost there,” she whispered.

  Sofia, Gran Jefe, and Edgar were waiting in the launch bay, along with two techn
icians.

  If Magnolia didn’t know better, she would think Rodger was unconscious by the way he hung limp in the harness. It wasn’t until he reached up with one hand that she began to relax.

  A hundred feet below, Michael bobbed in the waves, waiting his turn.

  “Permíteme, por favor,” said Gran Jefe. “Let me!”

  Crouching next to Magnolia, the burly Cazador flashed her a pointy-toothed grin as he reached down and pulled the dripping Rodger into the launch bay.

  “Rodge!” Magnolia cried.

  “Mags,” he croaked.

  Gran Jefe pulled him up through the open hatch and set him down—a bit roughly, in Magnolia’s opinion—on the launch-bay deck.

  As the winch lowered the harness to fetch Michael, Magnolia leaned down and hugged Rodger, squeezing a cough out of him.

  “Rodge, I thought . . .”

  “Easy,” he said.

  “I thought I had lost you.”

  “Yeah, and I thought I was fish food.”

  She chuckled and pulled back to look him in the eyes.

  “You’re okay?” she asked.

  “Yes. You?”

  “We lost Jo-Jo, and Arlo and Ada were both hurt,” Magnolia said. “But we found something amazing.”

  “Yeah?”

  Rodger sat up as the winch pulled Michael into the launch bay. Gran Jefe reached out and pulled him over, and Sofia handed him a bottle of water. He sucked down half of it before coming up for air.

  “How . . . How’d you find us?” Michael asked.

  “It was Pedro,” Magnolia said. “He recalibrated the weather drones to look for Cricket’s signal. We picked it up on our way back to the islands.”

  “You haven’t been back yet?”

  “No,” boomed an authoritative voice.

  Captain Rolo entered the room, flanked by two militia soldiers.

  “Glad to see you two are okay,” he said. “You’re damn lucky to be alive.”

  “Thanks for the lift,” Rodger said.

  “Yeah,” Michael said. “Much appreciated, Captain.”

  “I suppose we’re even now,” Rolo said.

  Magnolia was taken back by the statement. Stopping to pick up the two stranded men was hardly repayment for what Michael had done in Africa, but Magnolia was too happy to have Rodger back to care what the old grump thought or said right now.

  “Let’s get you guys to sickbay,” Magnolia said, taking Rodger by the hand.

  He coughed several times on the way to the airship’s med ward. Michael, on the other hand, seemed to be in decent enough shape.

  Dr. Stamos was working on Arlo again when they arrived. Glancing up, he gestured for Magnolia to open the door.

  “I’ll meet you both back in the launch bay,” she said to Edgar and Gran Jefe.

  They took off as Rodger and Michael followed Magnolia into the medical ward.

  Stamos stepped away from Arlo, who sat up, wincing.

  “Wow, you guys look like a Siren shat you out,” Arlo said.

  “And you look like you lost a fight in a Cazador brothel,” Rodger said.

  Magnolia rolled her eyes.

  “I quit going,” Arlo said with a shrug.

  They shared a laugh, but it died away when they saw Ada. She was still in a quarantined room, intubated and as pale as a Siren.

  “Dear God!” Michael said. “What happened to her?”

  Magnolia explained the story as Dr. Stamos listened to Rodger’s lungs.

  “A few days’ rest, and you’ll be back on your feet,” Stamos said.

  “And Ada?” Michael asked.

  The doctor looked at her for a moment, then said, “Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ll know more once we get her back to the islands, where I have better equipment.”

  Magnolia turned to Michael. “Follow me,” she said. “There’s something you need to see.”

  “Wait,” Rodger said.

  “Doc’s not done with you yet,” Magnolia said.

  “I know. Just want to say something to Michael.”

  “Yeah?” Michael asked.

  “Tin, I owe you my life,” Rodger said. “Thank you for coming for me.”

  “It’s us who should thank you, Rodger Dodger. If not for you, the oil from Blood Trawler would have poisoned our water.”

  “Now we have Pedro to thank, for saving both our asses.”

  Michael nodded. “He’s even smarter than I thought.”

  “We’re all lucky to be back together,” Magnolia said. She snatched Rodger up in another fierce hug.

  “I love you, Rodge,” she whispered into his ear.

  “I love you, too, Mags.”

  Magnolia pulled away, and Rodger sat back down on the bed. She left sickbay with Michael and hurried to the brig.

  Two militia soldiers let them inside. “Last one on your right,” said one.

  Michael walked up to the cell where, years ago, Magnolia had spent months for stealing from the Hive trading post.

  “Who’s this?” Michael asked.

  “Yejun,” Magnolia replied. “We captured . . . actually, he captured Edgar and me before Edgar escaped and freed me.”

  Michael looked through the bars. The kid couldn’t be more than fourteen. He was sitting on the bunk, legs up to his chest, eyes pinned on Michael.

  A loud pop came from the speakers, making Yejun flinch.

  “This is your captain,” Rolo said over the PA system. “We will be docking at the Vanguard Islands in fifteen minutes. Prepare for landing.”

  Magnolia smiled at Yejun and pulled a device from her vest pocket. She pushed a button, and the hologram of Timothy appeared.

  “Hey, Pepper, can you translate for me again?” Magnolia asked.

  “Certainly, Commander,” he replied.

  “Yejun,” she said, “in a few minutes, we’re going to show you something you’ve heard about all your life but have never seen. You’re going to see the sun, and then you’re going to meet our leader, King Xavier Rodriguez.”

  Timothy relayed the words, and Yejun got up off his bunk and walked over.

  He spoke to the AI in Korean.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure I understand what he said,” Timothy replied.

  Yejun spoke again, and again Timothy looked confused.

  “What?” Magnolia asked.

  “I think he said he wants to go home,” Timothy said.

  “To Korea?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I think he wants us to return him to his ship.”

  “Tell him we’re taking him somewhere much better,” Magnolia said. “He will see very soon.”

  Timothy interpreted, but Yejun shook his head and banged on the bar, repeating the words over and over.

  “Let’s leave him alone and let X talk to him,” Michael said.

  He led the way out of the brig, leaving Yejun banging away on the bars. They went straight to the CIC, where Captain Rolo stood at the helm with his XO, Eevi. She turned, all smiles, but Rolo wore his customary scowl.

  “We’re two minutes out,” he said.

  Magnolia went to the viewports as they approached the barrier between light and dark. Rain drizzled down the windows.

  They passed over the first rig a few minutes later. Even under gray skies, Magnolia could see the damage from the storm.

  It was far worse than she had imagined. Tarps fluttered in the breeze over shacks that had lost their roofs. The wind had left thousands of people exposed to the elements. The water around the rigs was thick with floating debris: clothes, carvings, splintered furniture—long-cherished heirlooms that had been in families for generations.

  The relics would be missed, but it was the lost livestock and crops that mattered most. From the looks of
it, they needed to find alternative food sources if they were to survive.

  The airship passed over a dirt field that, only days earlier, had held a bountiful harvest of corn, beans, and spinach. Now all the crops and half the soil were gone.

  Magnolia prayed that the farmers had salvaged some of it, but judging from the damage to the rigs, she doubted that much was spared.

  It was all a reminder of why setting up a supply chain was so vitally important. It also reminded her that her time here was limited. While she had hoped to spend a few days with Rodger, she had a feeling she would soon be heading back into the wastes.

  The airship passed over the Wind Talker rig, where only one of the turbines spun. Two were missing blades, and the other had a buckled mast. Shattered solar panels lay scattered on the decks.

  “Damn,” Magnolia muttered.

  The airship continued toward the capitol tower. The structural damage wasn’t bad, but the gardens and forest had taken a beating. Broken branches and uprooted bushes littered the area around the Sky Arena.

  On a horseshoe-shaped platform jutting from the top of the tower stood a group of people, one of them missing an arm, with a dog beside him.

  Magnolia felt a wash of relief. If anyone could save them, it was X.

  The moment the airship set down, she left the CIC with Michael and headed down a ramp.

  Layla was waiting with Bray in her arms.

  “Tin!” she whooped.

  As Michael ran down to embrace her and the baby, X looked up at Magnolia. His worried gaze told her that she hadn’t seen the worst of it. She walked over.

  “Take a few hours with your families and rest,” X said. “At dusk, the work to rebuild our home begins.”

  * * * * *

  Relief filled X like a candle flame in a dark room. Michael and Rodger were safe, and the Hell Divers had all made it home.

  In the past, the heroes of the sky were the only hope for the human race, and tonight they had once again brought hope. That hope burned bright inside X, but he knew that a single ill-timed gust could blow it right out.

  He sat at the desk of a man who had led an army that hunted sky people, enslaved them, and even ate their flesh.

  El Pulpo, king of the Metal Islands, was an evil man, whom X never thought he would understand.

  Until tonight.

  As he sat at the desk where el Pulpo had once sat, he read over a line from the translated log of the former king’s bastard son, Horn: