by Jake Bible
“Or maybe it will push her further over the edge,” Max said. “I’m not telling her shit, Ditcher.”
Darren flinched at the insult. It was a name the Reynolds boys had given him when he left and divorced Kinsey so many years before. Way before Ballantine or Team Grendel.
“Dude, don’t call me that,” Darren said. “Not today, okay?”
Max started to argue then just shrugged and went back to focusing on Darby.
“Has Dana been down?” Gunnar asked.
“She just left,” Max said. “She went inside and spoke to Darby for a few minutes, got nothing out of her, then left. No idea where she went.”
“I’ll find her,” Gunnar said. “We need to talk more about what specific equipment she needs to work on Darby’s brain.”
Max spun about and stared. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Gunnar asked.
“Dude, we just got the ship upright,” Max said, stamping his foot on the level deck. “It’s being held in place by the dock on one side and that yacht on the other. Popeye and Cougher are down in the water checking the damage again. As soon as they make the repairs, we’re gone. Ballantine already said so.”
“What? When did you talk to Ballantine?” Gunnar asked.
“Dana told me,” Max said.
“Son of a bitch,” Gunnar said and stalked off.
Max looked confused.
“I’d think he’d want to leave after what happened to Mike,” Max said.
“He’s using the Darby problem to ignore Mike’s death,” Darren said. “He insists we still find a facility where he and Dana can work on Darby and get her fixed up.”
“I’d settle for stabilized,” Max said. “Or at least blinking again. I’m too competitive to keep losing these contests.” He gave a sad chuckle which petered out into an even sadder sigh. “But, hey, tell Gun I won’t argue if he wants to stay. I’ll lead him over the river and through the woods to the lab myself if it means saving Darby.”
“You aren’t leading shit,” Kinsey said, giving Max’s calf a nudge with the toe of her boot.
“And ow,” Max said, pulling his leg up. “Don’t do that. Max hates that.”
“We better go talk to your dad and find Shane,” Darren said. “Team Grendel meeting time. No way we let Ballantine call it all off. Gunnar will lose his mind.”
“He can bunk with Darby,” Max said. “She’d probably like the company and—HA! I saw you blink! I saw that! I win one round! Bam!”
He glanced at Darren and Kinsey, giving them a triumphant smile.
“Never give up, right?” he said and waved them away. “Go find Uncle Vinny so he can beat some sense into Ballantine. No, wait, so he can beat nonsense into Ballantine. The sensible thing to do would be get the fuck away from this island. But, hey, since when has Grendel been sensible?”
“True dat,” Darren said and squeezed his shoulder as he turned to leave.
“Don’t stay here too long,” Kinsey said, following Darren. “You need to rest. We might need you for overwatch later.”
“Later as in tomorrow,” Max said. “From what I hear, this ship is going to be locked down tight tonight. That’s one thing I think we can let Ballantine be the expert at.”
Kinsey nodded and hurried after Darren, leaving Max to return his attention to the woman in the cage.
***
“Ballantine said no more gear!” Carlos cried as he stood behind three-inch plexiglass that blocked anyone from getting into the Toyshop. It was specifically blocking Thorne and Shane from entering at that moment. “No more gear because as soon as the ship is fixed, we are gone from here!”
“I don’t give two fucking shits what Ballantine has told you!” Thorne roared. “But if you ever want to live outside that plexiglass, you will give us the gear we need so we can go back to that island and do what we came here to do!”
“I’d rather stay in here than deal with Ballantine,” Carlos said. “He made it very clear what he will do to me if I give you even a single cartridge. He was very descriptive, even pointing out specific parts of my anatomy that will no longer be attached.”
Thorne slammed a fist against the plexiglass. “What the fuck do you think I’ll do to you if you don’t open up?”
“Well, now I have even more of a reason not to open this wall,” Carlos said, folding his arms across his chest. “Your threats have backfired.”
The plexiglass wall began to vibrate then slowly withdrew sideways.
“Wait! What?” Carlos cried out as he scrambled to the counter behind him. “How’s this happening? Who’s doing this?”
When the plexiglass was gone, Shane looked at Thorne and asked, “How bad can I hurt him? On a scale of one to a thousand? Please say a thousand.”
“No,” a diminutive woman said as she came from the back of the Toyshop. Moshi. Usually quiet as a mouse, rarely the focus of attention. At that second, she was the center of attention, and her body language showed just how uncomfortable she was with it. But her jaw was set and her face looked determined. “Don’t hurt him. Follow me.”
“Not even a little?” Shane asked. “Like a pinky finger? I can snap it right off and it would barely hurt. It’ll hurt like hell later, for sure.”
“No,” Moshi said and that was the end of that.
“Moshi! Why?” Carlos exclaimed as he tried to make himself as small as possible while Thorne and Shane followed Moshi. “You traitor!”
“You suck,” Moshi said. “I like Darby.”
“There you have it,” Shane said. “You suck, Carlos, and she likes Darby. In your face, ass muncher.”
“We need protection from the beetles and some heavy firepower,” Thorne said. “Preferably actual fire. I think that will work.”
“Compression suits,” Moshi said and pointed to the folded suits on a shelf.
Designed to allow a diver to surface quickly without getting the bends of depressurization, the compression suits also turned out to be great against physical attacks.
“I’ve seen the mandibles on these things,” Thorne said. “I’m not sure the compression suits will work.”
“Yeah, we get a hundred of them on us and they’ll tenderize us with those things right through the suits,” Shane said. “We need armor.”
Moshi stopped and eyed them for a second. She crinkled her brow and scratched at her chin then nodded and motioned for them to follow again. Shane and Thorne wove through the shelves as Moshi hurried from one row to the next. She stopped by a heavy-duty black case. It was four feet cubed.
With the flick of her hands, she unclasped it and threw the lid back. Inside was one suit that looked as bulky as the suits NASA used for spacewalks. The helmet was ridiculous. Also, it was bright blue. Bright robin’s egg blue.
“Not it,” Shane said.
Thorne glanced at him and cocked his head.
“Oh, come on, Uncle Vinny!” Shane exclaimed. “Look at it! I’ll look like the Pillsbury doughboy fucked a Smurf!”
“It’s your size,” Thorne said.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Shane said as he reached in and pulled the suit out. It wasn’t as bulky as the NASA suits, it was worse. “How am I supposed to fight in this?”
“Put it on,” Moshi said.
Shane stared at her then sighed, stripped down to his civvies, and pulled the suit on. He was quickly enveloped in the bright blue material with only his head and neck showing. He flexed his hands in the oversized gloves and stomped his feet a few times.
“No way,” he said. “This suit will not work.”
“Helmet,” Moshi said and handed the helmet to Shane.
More sighing, more complaining, his words and sounds muted once the helmet was on. Moshi patted his belly so he would bend over close enough that she could seal the helmet to the suit. There was a loud hiss of air.
Then the suit shrank and became skintight. Even the helmet changed size, molding to Shane’s head. He jump
ed and looked down at himself. After a couple seconds of shock, Shane flexed his hands then jogged in place. He threw a punch then a kick, his foot splitting the air between Thorne and Moshi.
“Crybaby,” Moshi said.
“That the only one?” Thorne asked.
Moshi nodded.
“Prototype?” Thorne asked.
Moshi nodded again.
“Ever been field tested?” Thorne asked.
Moshi shook her head.
Thorne laughed and patted Shane on the chest.
“This should be interesting,” he chuckled.
Shane looked confused. He tapped at his ear and shook his head. His mouth moved, but there was no sound.
“How does he breathe?” Thorne asked.
Moshi looked puzzled. She turned and studied the suit, waiting for something. She stayed that way for two solid minutes then shrugged. Shane seemed to be breathing just fine.
“Why does it glow like that?” Thorne asked.
Moshi shrugged again.
“Yeah, this should be very interesting,” Thorne said. “Now, how about the firepower?”
Moshi nodded and took off to another set of shelves. Thorne followed quickly behind. Shane was yelling at them both, his mouth moving a mile a minute, but absolutely no sound coming from the suit.
***
Shane was struggling to get the suit off, which was considerably more difficult than putting it on, when Kinsey and Darren burst into the Toyland, an angry Carlos shouting after them.
“Did you know Ballantine wants us to leave as soon as repairs are finished?” Kinsey snapped the second she saw her father. Thorne stood there, a black weapon that looked like a potato cannon on steroids in his hands. “Well, did you?”
“Yes,” Thorne said.
“How can you be okay with this?” Kinsey snarled. “Mike is dead! Those bugs are not going to stop us from getting Darby help! I swear, I’ll kill every last one of them with my hands if I have to!”
“I don’t agree with leaving,” Thorne said. “Ballantine doesn’t get to make this call. We stay, we fight, we find a facility to help Darby, we make Mike’s death count. Then we leave after burning this island to the ground.”
“Oh,” Kinsey said.
“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Darren said.
“What? You never once mentioned that to me,” Kinsey said. “We had the whole walk up from the specimen bay for you to say something and you didn’t.”
“I could have been wrong,” Darren said. “If that was the case, then it was better you were pissed off and ready for a fight with your dad.”
“Thank you for that, Chambers,” Thorne said.
“Oh, you so got the Chambers treatment,” Shane said, finally having gotten free of the suit.
“You left something behind,” Thorne said.
Shane looked down and realized his civvies were still inside the suit. He was stark naked. There was a quick titter, and Shane spun around to see Moshi covering her mouth and laughing. She stopped laughing and looked down then turned bright red and hurried off.
“That’s right! Flee from the Reynolds shlong! Flee from it!” Shane said.
“Put some pants on, man,” Darren said.
“Yeah, cuz, I don’t need to see that,” Kinsey agreed.
“You guys have got to see what this suit does,” Shane said as he fished his underwear out of it. He slipped them on then found the rest of his clothes. “Seriously. It’s crazy cool. Except no one can hear you talk. You can’t hear them either, not really.”
“No one can hear you?” Kinsey asked. “Is it finally the silencer we’ve all been praying for. A quiet Reynolds, praise God!”
“I’ll still have a com,” Shane said.
“We can switch that off,” Darren replied.
“Screw you guys,” Shane snapped.
“What are we going to do about Ballantine?” Kinsey asked.
“Yes, what are we going to do about Ballantine?” Ballantine asked as he walked into the Toyshop.
“Bet you didn’t try to stop him, did you?” Shane yelled to Carlos. The man peeked out of the shelves then ducked back in. “Coward!”
“We have been over this, Vincent,” Ballantine said. “The final word is mine. This is my ship and, technically, Team Grendel works for me. I say we leave this island tomorrow, as soon as repairs are finished.”
“No,” Thorne said.
“Is this mutiny?” Ballantine asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“No,” Thorne said. “Mutiny is against the captain. I believe Lake will side with us.”
“But I am in charge of Lake,” Ballantine said.
“You are no longer in charge of anything,” Thorne said. “We are where we are because of you. I believe your track record is less than exceptional. In fact, it is not even acceptable. You are no longer in charge, Ballantine. I am relieving you of any power you believe you still have.”
“Under what authority, might I ask?” Ballantine responded. “Where will you go? What will you do? If anyone can repair your reputations and keep us all from being locked up by whatever authorities finally catch up to us, it is me. Not you, Vincent. Me.”
“Good,” Thorne said. “Those skills are what will keep you from being thrown overboard. I’d advise you think on how to use those skills, because as soon as we leave, we are going wherever we need to go for you to fix the mess we are in. I am no good at being a criminal and, frankly, I am fed up with having to live like one.”
He patted the weapon in his hands.
“We’re going to do some recon on the island and find that facility,” Thorne continued. “Then we’ll come up with a plan on how to get Darby there safely, how to get her fixed up, and how to get off this island without getting anyone else killed. After that, we go where you think is the best place to turn ourselves in.”
Ballantine cocked his head and a wide grin spread across his face.
“That’s quite the statement,” Ballantine said.
“Don’t test me, Ballantine,” Thorne said. “Just don’t.”
“Very well, I won’t,” Ballantine said. “But may I make a suggestion?”
“I doubt I could stop you,” Thorne replied.
“Wait until tomorrow before you go into the jungle,” Ballantine said. “I’ve found the map of this island and you will want to familiarize yourself with it. The facility is dead center, housed in a dormant volcano.”
“Of course it is,” Shane said. “That’s where all the supervillains hide their secret lairs.”
“If you leave now for recon, you won’t even get halfway before you have to return to the ship,” Ballantine said. “I doubt I need to warn you of the dangers the darkness presents. Night time is not when you want to be outside.”
“What time is it?” Thorne asked.
“1800 hours,” Darren said, looking at his watch.
“Sun sets in two hours,” Ballantine said. “You’ll accomplish nothing in two hours.”
“Fine,” Thorne said. “We start tomorrow. If you try to pull anything in the night, I will kill you. You won’t get a warning, you won’t get a chance to plead your case, you will just die.”
“Understood,” Ballantine said.
“Good,” Thorne said.
“Good,” Ballantine echoed.
“Good,” Shane parroted.
“Dude,” Darren sighed.
“I miss Max,” Shane said.
***
Kinsey found Nivia and Lucy sitting on the main deck, both lounging in chairs as they watched the sun lower itself into the ocean. Nivia had her knees up to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs, her eyes swollen and red. Lucy looked up as Kinsey approached and gave her a sad shrug.
“I’m sorry about your brother and husband,” Kinsey said to Nivia.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Nivia said, not looking at Kinsey, her eyes locked onto the glowing ocean.
“This island…” Kinsey said and trailed off.
&nb
sp; “Yes,” Nivia nodded. “This island.”
“We know what the plan is yet?” Lucy asked.
“Recon tomorrow to the facility,” Kinsey said.
“What facility?” Nivia snapped. “On the island? You’re going on the island?”
“We have to,” Kinsey said. “We have a friend that is sick, and there’s equipment in that facility that might be able to help her.”
“We hope,” Lucy said.
“We hope,” Kinsey agreed.
“Are you people crazy?” Nivia asked. “I thought we were getting out of here? Some of the crew were saying that Ballantine guy ordered that we leave. He’s in charge, right? Isn’t he?” Kinsey and Lucy didn’t answer. “This is nuts. Totally bullshit nuts to stay.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Kinsey said as she pulled up a chair. “It is nuts. But that’s been our lives for a couple years. Nuts. Right now, we have no other choice but to live it as nuts as possible.”
“Only way out is through,” Lucy said.
“Exactly,” Kinsey agreed.
“So, your friend is sick and you’re all willing to die to save her?” Nivia asked. “Aren’t your lives worth as much as hers?”
“She’d die for us,” Lucy said.
“Hooyah,” Kinsey responded.
“Who are you people?” Nivia asked.
“Team Grendel and company,” Kinsey said. “Badasses on the high seas.”
“Hooyah,” Lucy said.
“I’m not going on that island,” Nivia said. “No way I set foot there.”
“Not asking you to,” Kinsey said. “You can stay here on the ship, safe and sound.”
“Will your people repair my yacht?” Nivia asked.
“Why? You can ride with us,” Kinsey said.
“I don’t think she’s cool with that,” Lucy said.
“We can get you someplace safe,” Kinsey said.
“I don’t think anywhere with you people is safe,” Nivia said and stood up. She watched as the bright orange orb was almost below the horizon. “I just want my yacht fixed and to be on my way. I can sail, but I’d appreciate you leave me enough fuel for an emergency.”
“I’ll talk to Cougher and Popeye,” Kinsey said. “They’re the ones that would know how to fix your boat.”
