He was still far enough out that he could see the airship on the deck, and dozens of soldiers advancing toward the landing gear. The red-feathered helmet of General Forge was reliably in the thick of things. Wielding a long cutlass, he dashed up to a limb wrapped around the closest leg of the airship, and hacked deep into orange flesh. Two men with axes joined him.
X lost sight of them as the Ocean Bull closed in and the supercarrier’s hull blocked the view topside.
A few moments later, the Vanguard tried to rise from the deck, but three writhing, grasping limbs were still attached and pulling. One had snaked around a turbofan, which suddenly ripped free, crashing down onto the weather deck of the Immortal.
The PA system on the Ocean Bull kicked on with an announcement to brace for impact.
“Hold on, boy,” X said to Miles.
He checked the spikes above the cockpit and actuated the relay to extend them farther. The blades went out as far as they would go.
“Okay, you ugly bastard,” X growled. “How about a spike up your blowhole?”
Seconds from impact, the Ocean Bull was still accelerating. At the last moment, X was close enough to see barnacles and remoras attached to the mottled gray skin, and long scars from doing battle with other sea monsters.
X was about to give it another scar—a big one.
The spikes punched into the thick hide, which easily gave way. Blood and meat slapped against the Plexiglas of the bridge, cracking the reinforced panel. The ship jolted hard, but the harness held X in his seat.
Purple blood cascaded down the window, blocking his view of the monster.
The Ocean Bull backed up, and the next wave rinsed most of the gore off the Plexiglas, allowing X to see the hull of the Immortal. Severed arms hung from the upper decks, leaking purple blood.
The orange glow vanished beneath the surface between the Ocean Bull and the supercarrier.
X looked up at the blue flames of the Vanguard’s thrusters. With the airship away, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
“We got incoming,” came the voice of Captain Two Skulls over the radio. “All hands, prepare for impact.”
A loud groaning noise rumbled through the hull as the blow rotated the ship several degrees. X reached over and ruffled Miles’s fur.
“Do you trust me, boy?” he asked.
Miles licked his hand.
“Good,” X said. It was time to take the ram for a second go at the whales. The last two had split up, the glows spreading out as they sounded toward the sea bottom.
He didn’t see the third injured beast, but after the ass-kicking he had just given it, he doubted it would come back for more.
“Both hostiles are closing in, King Xavier,” said the captain. “Bringing us around to meet the one off the port beam.”
“Copy that,” X said.
The Immortal continued sailing away in the distance, and the Vanguard was nowhere in sight, nor were the other two ships.
X had gotten the attention of the monsters, but now the Ocean Bull was on its own.
“Just us and them now, boy,” X said.
The surface glow of the lead whale expanded in the distance, and kept growing as the Ocean Bull turned into the waves.
The next message from Captain Two Skulls told X why.
“This is the biggest beast of the pod,” the captain said. “One thousand meters out. Good luck, King Xavier.”
Another warning chirped over the PA system.
About two hundred meters out, the monster surfaced in an explosion of water.
It took him a moment to grasp that this wasn’t the head, but the massive tail flukes, slapping the water. The beast went under, the glow vanishing.
“Where’d it go?” X asked Miles.
Spotlights raked the water.
Over the drone of the emergency alarm, he heard chatter on the comms.
“It’s right under us,” Two Skulls transmitted. “Moving now. Prepare for . . .”
X flinched backward in his seat as the monstrous face of the whale burst upward a mere hundred meters in front of the bow. Rising from the deep and exposing its glowing throat grooves. The bright glare revealed a mouth filled with teeth the size of cutlass blades.
A baleful eye peered in through the Plexiglas at him and his dog.
X stared back at the bulbous eye.
The beast let out a shrieking whistle that made him wince. He blinked as arms rose toward the Ocean Bull.
Ears ringing, X let out a war-whoop of his own. The monster opened its mouth wider and surged forward to chomp the bridge.
Right as the jaws began to close, X raised the shutters halfway over the Plexiglas.
The cockpit jolted, and a spiderweb of cracks raced across the glass.
X worked the hydraulic controls of the spikes, stabbing the enormous face over and over with the extendable spears.
Lights flickered, Miles howled, and the whistling continued, creating an unholy din that made it hard to think.
X could feel the resistance as the spikes punched through eyes and flesh and scraped on bone. Glass shattered overhead when a tooth broke through right between him and Miles.
Using the hydraulic levers, he continued to punch the beast with the spikes, jerking in his seat with every impact. One of the spikes slammed against the hard skull, bending and finally snapping in two.
A moment later, another spike bent, but the other four kept stabbing into the mutant flesh, over and over.
Violet fluid sloshed through the broken window. X took his hand off the controls for a moment to close the other shutter, but it was jammed or broken.
He stared up at an eye the size of a tank sprocket, still looking into the cockpit.
Unsheathing his hatchet, he swung it deep into the pupil, prompting a high-pitched shriek of agony that hurt his ears.
X pulled the axe back as the beast retreated. He waited a few seconds before lowering the other shutters for a look. The beams lit up the monster, whipping and jerking its limbs back and forth over the water. It slowly went under, bubbles rising through the fading yellow glow as it sank into the depths.
The comms fired to life. “Well done, King Xavier!” said the captain. “I think you’ve killed two of them. The third beast is fleeing to the east.”
X unbuckled his seat and checked on Miles, who was drenched in water and purple blood but seemed fine.
“I think we did it,” X said.
Miles barked, wanting down.
“Hold on,” X said, peering through the viewports to make sure the beast was indeed gone.
Sure enough, the yellow glow grew dimmer and weaker until there were only the spotlight beams crossing back and forth over dark, frothy water.
“Hell yes!” X said.
He started to sit back down and send a transmission when the voice of Captain Two Skulls made the hair on his neck stand up.
“Prepare for impact!” he shouted.
X felt a moment of sheer terror before something hit the Ocean Bull from behind. The impact bounced him off the dashboard. He hit the deck and lay there, stunned.
Miles struggled to free himself from the seat harness and help.
“Stay . . . there,” X mumbled.
He pushed himself up, slicing his right hand on a shard of the shattered viewport.
A panicked voice surged over the comms. Something about taking on water via the lower decks.
X grabbed the chair, pulled himself up, and tried to regain his sense of balance. The hatch opened, and Slayer rushed in.
“Sir, we have to go,” he said.
“I thought I killed two and the third was—”
“This is the first beast,” Slayer said. “And it’s really fucking mad!”
X staggered over to Miles, realizing what had happened. The
third, smaller beast had fled, but the first one wasn’t dead—it was just regrouping.
He unbuckled Miles and picked him up, not putting him down until they got out of the Plexiglas-covered cockpit. In the passage outside, they followed the two Cazador warriors to an open hatch. The hull groaned, half-obscuring another warning over the PA system.
All X heard was, “Brace!”
The impact came from the port side this time, knocking everyone in the passageway off their feet. X almost hit the overhead, his head narrowly missing a pipe.
The Ocean Bull buckled, and X knew it didn’t have long on this side of the surface. He helped one of the men up and whistled to Miles to follow.
They made it up two ladders before the enraged whale hit again.
X held on to a rail with one hand, and Miles with the other. Slayer also held on, but the other soldier wasn’t as lucky. He flailed for something to hold on to and then flew off the top landing, hitting halfway down the flight with a crack that echoed.
“Go, King Xavier!” Slayer shouted. “I will help him.”
X hesitated but then went to help when he saw the water rushing up below. He couldn’t leave these two men behind.
A clear message came over the PA system. “All hands to the life rafts,” said Captain Two Skulls. “Abandon ship! Repeat, abandon ship.”
The fallen guard had managed to get up, gripping a badly broken arm while Slayer helped him. Together they hurried up the ladder until they got to the hatch that opened to the weather deck.
“This way!” Slayer yelled.
Sailors and soldiers ran over to the rail, where lifeboats were already being lowered. In the distance, X spotted the lights of the Immortal and, behind it, Raven’s Claw and Octopus.
They were closing in to help but were too far off to do much good.
“Watch out!” Slayer shouted.
X turned and saw the yellow glow spearing under the water, toward the starboard side—right toward the lifeboats. He looked for something to hold on to, but they were in the middle of the deck.
The yellow glow closed on the sinking ship. It began to list, and X could feel the water rushing into the stern.
“Get down!” yelled Captain Two Skulls.
He came running toward X, who dropped down and hugged Miles on the deck. He glanced up at something streaking out of the sky like a meteor. Another streak lanced through the darkness.
Explosions boomed off the starboard side, and a geyser of water shot up, along with hunks of mottled flesh.
X held Miles tight as the airship Vanguard lowered from the clouds. It descended over the deck of the Ocean Bull, the bottom troop hold opening and a ramp extending down.
Magnolia emerged with a rope at the edge of the open launch bay.
“Let’s go!” she shouted.
More divers and technicians stepped up, uncoiling ropes and tossing them down.
X picked up Miles and carefully made his way up the sloping deck to grab one of the dangling ropes. He snatched it, and hung tightly on to Miles as two Hell Divers pulled him up.
The water encroached on the deck, swallowing it up to the middle. Sailors and soldiers in life jackets dived off into the waves. X spotted Captain Two Skulls sliding down the deck with two of his officers, their bodies splashing into the water.
By the time X got up to the ramp, he was losing his grip on Miles. Strong arms grabbed him and pulled him up, and X released the dog.
He crawled back to the edge of the ramp and looked down at the ship that had figured large in their plans to use the Panama Canal.
A beat later, with a sigh audible even at this distance, the ocean swallowed the Ocean Bull whole.
Twenty-Six
Michael was up before the sun. He kissed Bray and then checked on baby Rhino in the other crib. Even at just a few months old, he was showing signs that he would be big like his father.
It was a tragedy that General Rhino had never met his child or even known about him, but soon the child would know all about his famous father.
“You’re heading out early.”
Michael turned to see his wife standing in the doorway. She handed him a fresh apple.
“Thanks,” he said. “You got any fun lessons planned for school today?”
“School’s out.”
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, I’m losing track of time.”
She stepped over to the cribs. “I’m going to be here with them, waiting to hear what those keys are for.”
“Don’t worry, Layla, okay?”
She bit the inside of her lip. “I’ll try, but with so much riding on Panama, it’s hard not to.”
“I know,” he said, “but we’ve been through worse. Don’t forget about the decades in the sky.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.”
Michael kissed her goodbye and pulled his baseball cap over his long hair. Ton and Victor were waiting inside the entrance of the apartment, eating apples that Layla had given them.
“Good morning, Chief,” said Victor.
Ton smiled with mostly gums, only a few teeth showing.
“Good morning,” Michael said.
“Watch after my man today,” Layla said.
“Some days, I feel he looks after us,” Victor said.
They hurried down to a marina already active with fishermen—some who were coming back from spending all night on the ocean, others who were just heading out.
Michael geared up and climbed into his boat. By the time he steered it out into the water, reports were flooding in from the rigs with engineering issues.
“Hope you got some rest,” said Steve over the radio, “’cause we got a major problem at rig fifteen.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Michael said.
“Sir, I’ve been here since five o’clock.”
“Outworking the young pups again?”
“Oh, I can run circles around them, partner. You’ll see.”
Michael smiled. He was really starting to like Steve.
The journey to the trading post rig took Michael past the Wind Talker rig. Seeing a working wind turbine gave him a surge of pride. It was a start, but they had a long way to go in restoring power throughout the islands.
Rig 15, which housed the survivors from Tanzania, was in bad shape. Michael slowed the engine as he approached.
Most of the exterior shacks had been completely removed, the materials going to construct community shelters deeper inside the rig. This would help mitigate future storm losses, but other issues required critical parts that they were low on.
Michael caught the scent of raw sewage even before he docked. He flashed back to the moment he landed at the camp with Arlo to rescue these people from the machines. Conditions on the rig weren’t all that much better than at that camp: no warm water, no power, and rationed food.
At least they have the sun.
Michael looked west. Rain clouds loomed on the horizon. Even the sunshine was under threat today.
He hopped out and secured the boat. Ton and Victor walked ahead, toward the bottom hatch. An interior ladder took them up to the fifth deck. A passage led to the new community housing space, which reeked of sewage.
Michael stepped inside, trying to breathe through his mouth.
Drapes partitioned off areas, much as they once had on the Hive. With rain threatening, almost everyone was inside right now. Kids sat on plastic chairs playing games, and parents cooked rations and washed clothes.
Eyes followed Michael and his guards.
“When will they turn the power back on?” a woman asked.
“Soon,” Michael said.
“Do something about the plumbing,” said the woman. “We can’t take much more of this smell, especially when it’s hot.”
Resentful gazes followed
Michael. Just weeks earlier, these people were all smiles. It was sobering how fast things changed. And if things went bad this fast, they could get worse even faster.
Michael knew he should keep on walking, but he wanted to stop and see Alton. He took a right down an aisle of partitioned-off spaces furnished with cots or makeshift beds. Some were clean and tidy, but the one he was looking for was a mess.
And empty.
Michael looked inside the small ten-by-ten space Alton shared with his mom. He found two wrinkled blankets on the cots, some piles of clothing and dirty dishes, and a stuffed elephant.
He picked the toy up off the filthy floor and set it on a cot.
Then he went to the space across the hall. The drape pulled back, and a seven-year-old boy with one eye stood and saluted.
“Hey there, kid,” Michael said.
A woman stood up—the boy’s aunt, from what Michael remembered. Thirties, maybe a bit older, with pretty features.
“You’re one of the Hell Divers,” she said. “Alton’s been telling everyone.”
Michael smiled. “I was indeed, and now I’m here to fix the shit cans.”
He laughed, and she chuckled but grew serious.
“Do you know where Alton and his mom went?”
“The hospital,” the woman replied. “She’s in bad shape.”
Michael sighed. He’d had a feeling that was the case.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Wait.”
He stopped in the aisle and turned back.
“Things are getting bad, and I worry about my nephew,” she said. “There are people here that think . . . they are paranoid that . . .”
She peered out, past Michael, to a man watching them down the aisle. More like staring at them, Michael realized. He used his back to block the view.
“That what?” he asked the woman.
“That we are going to run out of food and will have to fight.”
“That’s not going to happen. You have my word.”
“Okay. Thank you for everything.”
“It’s my duty, ma’am. And my pleasure.”
Hell Divers Series | Book 8 | King of the Wastes Page 34