Hell Divers Series | Book 8 | King of the Wastes

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

She was glad she had forgone the makeup that Sofia gave her—it would have been dripping down her face by now after the two miles’ rowing to get here over the past half hour.

  Wiping the sweat from her brow, she glanced over her shoulder. A hundred lanterns and torches mounted to other small rowboats and canoes glowed across the water. Each vessel was filled with warriors, Hell Divers, support crews, and families that had come for the festivities.

  A final night of bliss before the darkness.

  The week of planning, training, and restoring and recommissioning the ITC Ranger as the Immortal had flown by. It was hard to believe they were already setting sail by sky and sea.

  Rodger moored the rowboat and wended his way up the convoluted series of ladders and winding stairwells that had been spared from the fires, to the upper decks. There were still signs of the storm, but most of the burned areas were closed off.

  When they arrived at the market, tables lit by candles and torches displayed the feast of grilled fish, broiled chickens, mashed potatoes, and roasted plantains with sweet green coconut meat.

  Magnolia held Rodger’s hand and walked toward the sounds of laughter and music, thinking back to her days on the Hive. The night before a dive was always a night of overconsumption, filled with debauchery, sex, and shine.

  Tonight would be no different.

  As they slipped into the gathering crowd, Magnolia heard animated conversations in at least three or four languages going on at any given moment. And she saw something different in the gazes of these people: hope. In fact, she had never seen this many faces filled with so much joy.

  Magnolia took Rodger by the hand and started toward the mass of people at the center of the post, where a stage had been built. Two weathered old men sat on plastic chairs playing guitars.

  They broke into song as those gathered started toward tables topped with fresh food. Unlike the feasts on the Hive before dives, this wasn’t wasteful. Mangoes, bananas, and papayas harvested green ahead of the storm needed to be consumed. Everything was rationed, down to each strawberry, chicken leg, and fillet of fish. A scribe was there with a clipboard, keeping records to make sure everyone took their share and no more.

  He wasn’t paying attention to the booze, though.

  Barrels of ale and jugs of wine and coconut hooch were being poured freely tonight. A long line snaked away from the drinking station as the two old guitarists serenaded them with sweet Spanish words from old-world songs that had survived through the centuries.

  Magnolia and Rodger made their way through the crowds to the Hell Divers. The greenhorns were hanging out with Arlo and Edgar, who were telling stories and laughing.

  Kade held a mug but was nursing it slowly. Next to him was Tia, with her own mug, talking to him in a hushed voice.

  Magnolia knew they had some reconciling to do, and it was good to see them conversing.

  Ada and Gran Jefe weren’t here, and she didn’t see X, either, but she knew he would be here soon.

  Not far away from the divers, she spotted Layla and Michael with Pedro, who held Bray in his arms while he spoke to Michael. They were becoming good friends, and Magnolia was happy to see it.

  Layla was a few feet away with Sofia, who rocked Rhino Jr. to the guitar strains.

  “Mags, Rodge,” Sofia said, holding up her glass of wine. “You guys made it.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Magnolia replied.

  She reached out for Rhino Jr., and Sofia passed the boy to her. Magnolia cradled the child against her chest.

  “You’re a natural,” Rodger said. “Wish I could say the same for myself.”

  Magnolia chuckled. The last time Rodger had held Bray, he looked as if he were holding something radioactive in his arms.

  “You guys ready for tomorrow?” Michael asked.

  “Ready as ready can be,” Rodger said. “I’ve got a cabin on the Immortal, and I’m trying to convince Mags to shack up with me until we get to Panama.”

  “You know I should be on the airship with the divers,” she said.

  “I know.” Rodger looked down sadly, and then smiled. “Want something to drink?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Rodger took off as Arlo and Edgar stepped over, both men devouring their ration of chicken breast.

  Most of the other divers were also savoring the luscious meat.

  Arlo tipped back a goblet of wine as he watched Gran Jefe arrive, shaking hands and bumping elbows with Cazador soldiers and their families.

  “That son of a bitch hurt X,” Arlo said.

  “Maybe his pride,” Magnolia said. “But it takes more than knuckles and a wooden sword to hurt the Immortal.”

  “It was a brutal fight,” Kade said. “And the king held his own considering his age and the weight difference. Very impressive bout, if you ask me.”

  Gran Jefe strode over to them, flashing a cocky smirk.

  “Giving the king some bruises in the Sky Arena is going to give this ass dingle an even bigger head,” Rodger said. He handed Magnolia a glass of wine, and she took a long gulp.

  “Gets any bigger, there’s going to be a nuclear explosion,” Magnolia said.

  “¡Hola, amigos! ” Gran Jefe bellowed. “¿Cómo están?”

  Two men followed him over. “I want you to meet Jamal,” he said. “Mi primo—my cousin—but like a brother.”

  Jamal was short but stout, with stocky shoulders and muscular limbs.

  He simply nodded at the Hell Divers.

  “Jamal is a sargento with the Wave Riders,” Gran Jefe said.

  Magnolia had heard of the Cazador naval team that specialized on the Jet Skis and smaller boats. Several of them had made some impressive rescues during the storm.

  “You’re going to Panama?” she asked.

  Jamal shook his head. “I stay here to guard the islands.”

  “He wishes he was coming, though,” Gran Jefe said. He clapped his cousin on the back.

  The other man, also short like Jamal, cleared his throat.

  “Oh, I almost forgot Hugo,” Gran Jefe said. He pronounced it “OO-go.” “Also mi primo.”

  Hugo nodded. He had a scrappy beard and unruly hair. A tattoo of a skull and crossbones grinned from the side of his neck.

  “Hugo’s a . . .” Gran Jefe began to say. “How do you say . . . watchee-watchee.”

  “A scout?” Magnolia asked.

  “Ah, sí,” Gran Jefe said. He positioned Hugo in front of them.

  “Maybe he can help us find our lost diver,” said a voice.

  Ada stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Magnolia almost didn’t recognize her at first. Her eyes drooped, and her hair was frizzled.

  Gran Jefe and his two kinsmen glared at her.

  “Diver?” Gran Jefe asked.

  “Jo-Jo,” Ada said.

  Gran Jefe laughed. “If Hugo finds that beast, he will probably eat it.”

  Ada walked toward Gran Jefe, who stopped laughing. Those droopy eyes were shooting fire.

  “I’m joking, chica,” he said. Casting his eyes meaningfully in the direction of the booze, he had no difficulty getting his cousins to follow him over for a refill.

  Magnolia went to Ada and put a hand on her shoulder. “Hungry?”

  Ada shook her head.

  “You should eat,” Kade said. “You’ll need your energy.”

  He tore off a generous hunk of chicken and handed it to her.

  “I don’t want to eat,” she said. “I want to get out there and find Jo-Jo.”

  There was anger in her voice, and Magnolia picked up the scent of alcohol on her breath.

  “We’re going to find—” Magnolia started to say.

  “We left her down there to die,” Ada said.

  “Ada,” Edgar said ruefully, “you know we would have tried
to save her if we could.”

  “I told you, we’ll find your friend, Ada.”

  Everyone turned toward the gruff voice of King Xavier. He stood behind them, his face half in shadow. The moonlight illuminated his swollen face and cut lip. Miles stood beside him, taking in the delectable scent of the barbecue.

  Magnolia peered into the shadows behind X, knowing that Ton and Victor weren’t far away, patrolling with their spears.

  “Have a seat,” X said. “I’m going to say a few words.”

  X brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled loud enough to stop the music. Then he took the stage, where he paced and scratched his beard—a nervous habit that Magnolia had seen quite a bit of lately.

  There was a lot to be nervous about.

  “Good evening,” X said. “You all know I’m not big on words, but tomorrow we embark on a new mission to secure our future, and with so much at risk, I felt it’s important to say a few things.”

  He eyed Magnolia, then Michael and Layla, lowering his eyes finally to Bray.

  “This is our home, and to make sure it remains our home, we have to journey once again into the wastes,” X said. “Future generations will survive or may never exist, based on our actions starting tomorrow.”

  He stared out at the horizon and raised his glass.

  “Tomorrow, we sail and we dive so humanity survives.”

  The soldiers and Hell Divers repeated the words with brio, then toasted the king.

  “Now that I’ve bored you, I’m going to introduce you all to a guy named Robert Johnson,” X said. “Bluesman from the Mississippi Delta a few centuries back.” He nodded, and Kade walked up to the stage with his guitar.

  Tipping up his cowboy hat, the veteran diver looked out at the crowd.

  “This is ‘Sweet Home Chicago,’ ” he said.

  Kade started playing the guitar and singing in his baritone voice with his Australian accent. He was really good, Magnolia realized. She stood there listening to the king’s favorite music.

  “Come on, baby don’t you wanna go home,” Kade sang, “back from the land of California to my sweet home Chicago . . .”

  Magnolia clapped along next to Rodger, who actually knew the lyrics.

  Everyone on the deck seemed entranced by the song and by the voice and guitar of Cowboy Kade.

  Magnolia lost herself in the music for those few short moments, transported to a place that felt safe and beautiful, until a commotion snapped her back to reality.

  Captain Rolo and his entourage had walked into the open market area and were standing in line for food.

  “Did you keep track of them, mate?”

  The angry but diplomatic voice belonged to Charmer. He stood in front of a scribe, holding a plate of food and pointing at the Hell Divers.

  The scribe replied in Spanish, something about Hell Divers having a bigger ration due to their service.

  “Don’t be a bastard,” Charmer said. “Do you know who I am? Or how about him?”

  Magnolia watched the interaction, feeling her anger rise.

  “Stay here,” she said to Rodger.

  “But, Mags . . .”

  She walked up to Charmer. His eye beheld her, then flitted to her left. To her surprise, it wasn’t just Rodger, but also Kade who had joined her from the stage.

  “Is there a problem?” Kade asked Charmer.

  “No problem that I see, although I only have the one eye,” he replied with a smile. “My mate here thinks I don’t deserve to eat like you, but perhaps he’s the one who can’t see we’re all equal.”

  “Protein ration is based on service,” Magnolia said, “and you—”

  “Am the second ranked on my rig,” Charmer said.

  “This isn’t your rig, and you aren’t serving. Put it back.”

  “You seem to enjoy wielding authority when you have none,” Captain Rolo said.

  “Perhaps you should leave that determination to me,” barked a voice.

  X strode up, his hand resting on the leather sheath of his new axe. Miles went down on his haunches, and Ton and Victor stepped up by his sides.

  “You both know the ration rules,” said the king. “And those rules are going to be enforced, especially now, with the storm wiping out so much of our food. Everyone needs to be fair.”

  “ ‘Fair’ is the problem,” Rolo said. “It’s not.”

  “Then take it up at the next council meeting. Not now.”

  “Aye, we will,” Charmer said.

  “All this food for people that probably won’t even survive,” Rolo muttered.

  Magnolia felt her blood tingle from anger as they walked away.

  X mumbled something about selfish bastards. “Don’t let them get you down,” he said to Magnolia. “Go have fun.”

  She smiled. “You do the same.”

  X grunted. “Fun,” he said. “Remind me, what the hell is that?”

  Kade went back to the stage to finish his song, and Magnolia felt the beat in her bones. She took Rodger by the hand and led him out to the open area in front of the stage. On the way, she caught Charmer’s one-eyed leer and could have sworn he winked at her.

  She was about to give him the finger when Rodger pulled on her hand.

  “Mags, are you sure about this? I don’t want to make fools out of us with this damn prosthetic foot.”

  “You’ll do fine.” She kissed him on the lips, and his eyes widened.

  “Uh . . . okay,” he said.

  They danced in the glow of the burning torches. Alive, joyful, and happy. The brief confrontation with Charmer melted away like candle wax.

  It was moments like this that reminded her why she dived. To live in this fleeting moment of joy, when she truly felt the electricity of life at its fullest.

  As the night progressed, the empty barrels of ale and wine were rolled out, with fresh ones rolled in. Cazadores and sky people mingled freely, laughing and playing games.

  “Oh, this isn’t good,” Rodger suddenly said.

  It took Magnolia a beat to realize he was referring to Arlo. The curly-headed jokester was on the stage, holding a guitar.

  “Damn it,” Magnolia said.

  She paused and wiped sweat from her face.

  “Oh, this is really bad,” Rodger said.

  Also climbing up onto the stage was Gran Jefe.

  Kade and Edgar stood to watch.

  “I better stop this,” Magnolia said.

  “Hold on,” Rodger said.

  Magnolia watched Arlo and Gran Jefe talking. Oddly, their body language was relaxed and friendly. They both laughed, and the big Cazador picked up a flute made from a Siren’s arm bone. He brought it to his lips as Arlo plucked away on the guitar, and together they made some of the most painfully discordant sounds that Magnolia had ever heard in her life.

  “Pair of idiots,” Rodger muttered.

  “Sounds like a dying bone beast,” said a deep male voice.

  It was Steve, holding his wife’s hand. They had stopped to watch the scene.

  Magnolia watched the happy couple for a moment, picturing herself and Rodger thirty years from now. She hoped they made it that long.

  Gran Jefe stomped the stage, drawing her attention back to the Cazador as he blew into the flute. Arlo broke into song. Happily, his voice was better than his guitar playing.

  The crowd booed, and Gran Jefe let out a bellowing laugh.

  “Psst, Mags,” said a voice. “Up here.”

  She looked to the balcony above her, where X stood with Michael. The king motioned for her to join them.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said to Rodger.

  Magnolia climbed up to the deck with Michael and X. Lieutenant Wynn was also there and stepped out of the shadows to acknowledge her.

  “There’s somet
hing I need to tell you all,” X said. “And something I need you to promise now that I’m leaving.”

  Magnolia and Michael exchanged a glance.

  “While I’m gone, Michael will serve as regent and watch over the islands, with Lieutenant Wynn in charge of the military,” X said.

  He held up a hand before Michael could say a word.

  “I know you’re young and that you have a family,” X said. “That is why this must be you, Michael. You have the heart and mind to make the decisions best for everyone here.”

  “I will be right by your side,” Wynn said.

  X turned to Magnolia next.

  “Do you trust Kade?” he asked.

  “He’s saved my ass twice now—even broke Captain Rolo’s orders to do it.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  She nodded. “He’s a hell of a diver and seems like a good man with a tormented soul. Reminds me of you a bit, sir.”

  X snorted. “It pains me to say this,” he said, “but I fear we might have a problem with Captain Rolo and some of his people, especially that Charmer character. I want you all to keep an eye on them.”

  “You got it.”

  “Have you selected a new team lead yet?”

  “No,” Magnolia replied, “but I have narrowed it down to Edgar and Sofia.”

  “How about giving Kade the new team?” X said. “Let’s see what he can do with them.”

  Magnolia wasn’t sure she liked the idea, but X was in charge.

  “Okay, sir,” she said.

  X gave a grim smile.

  “I know I’m asking a lot of all of you,” he said, “but I promise this: I will die before I see our home destroyed. This is nothing less than humanity’s last chance.”

  Twenty-Two

  On the horizon, the first glimmer of sun fired the tops of the rigs before crawling down them to spread over the entire sea. X had slept only a few hours after leaving the celebration, but he was stone-cold sober.

  He would feel great if only he hadn’t drunk so much water when he awoke. Now he had to piss a pool. Still, it beat pissing blood, and he had a feeling Gran Jefe was doing just that this morning after the two kidney punches and a good whack to the cojones that X had given him in the Sky Arena.

  X put on his ball cap, buckled his duty belt with the new axe around his waist, grabbed his bag, and then motioned for Miles. They trekked down to the exterior float docks in the port on the south side of the capitol tower.