“Help!” came a scream. He whirled back to the center of the ship, where a hulking Cazador held a saw-toothed blade pressed to Rodger’s throat. Magnolia was backed against the gunwale, eyes wide behind her visor.
“Let him go!” she snarled.
Two more Cazadores were moving on her. One of them unslung a shotgun.
“Drop it,” shouted the man holding Rodger captive. It was then that X noticed the crushed Siren skulls on his shoulders.
El Pulpo.
The scar on his neck itched as he looked at the leader of the Cazadores. The bastard wouldn’t hesitate this time; he would kill all three of them and barbecue them right alongside the Siren still grilling over the oil drum. X steeled himself to make a call that would haunt him for the rest of his life. There just wasn’t enough time to save them both.
His heart ached when he made his decision.
Bringing his rifle up, he fired several bursts at the two men approaching Magnolia, hitting the one with the shotgun first. He dropped from a head shot, but the second man took a round to the chest and kept moving with his cutlass raised, apparently determined to take Magnolia with him.
Maybe if X had dispatched them both with head shots, he would have had a chance to save Rodger, but he was forced to spend another second killing the man with the blade.
Three bullets sent him crashing into the railing.
Magnolia was already running toward el Pulpo as X pivoted, finger on the side of the trigger.
They both were too late.
El Pulpo loosened his grip on Rodger and then thrust the blade into Rodger’s back, lifting him off the ground. Magnolia screamed, holding up her hands and freezing, as if she might fix what had happened if she could just hold still enough.
Rodger squirmed, his feet kicking. “Help!” he croaked. “Someone help me!”
El Pulpo pulled the blade free from Rodger and unslung his machine gun as Rodger toppled onto the deck. X fired first, aiming for the eye he had destroyed with a needle nearly two years ago. But his labored breathing threw off his aim, and the bullets punched into armor below the elbow. The machine gun clattered onto the deck.
El Pulpo let out a muffled roar and ran for cover as X continued firing until his magazine went dry. Miles barked ferociously and gave chase, with his master right behind him. X dropped the empty machine gun and unslung the long rifle as he ran. Bringing it up, he fired two rounds at the escaping cannibal leader. A window shattered and a tire went flat, but El Pulpo disappeared before X could take him down for good.
“Miles, back!” X shouted.
The dog returned, and X hurried over to Magnolia. She was on her knees next to Rodger, cradling his helmet. X scanned for contacts again, keeping his barrel on the garage.
“We gotta move,” he said, his voice even gruffer than usual.
Rodger wheezed, peppering the inside of his helmet with blood. He held up a gloved hand to Magnolia and said, “Sorry I never …” His words trailed off in a coughing fit.
Magnolia grabbed Rodger by his chest plate, trying to lift him up. “You’re going to be fine. Come on, get up.”
“We got to go, Mags,” X said. He looked down at Rodger. How could he apologize to the man for choosing Magnolia?
Rodger coughed again, more blood flecking the inside of his cracked visor. His suit had been compromised, and the rads here were off the graph. Rodger seemed to understand this. “Too late for me. Could already feel myself getting sick.”
Miles nudged up alongside Rodger, nuzzling his arm and whining softly.
Rodger looked up at X, his eyes clear and steady. “Tell my parents that the good chisel set is in my footlocker. And … Magnolia, I always …” His eyelids fluttered, and his hand fell away from Miles’ head as his body went limp.
X grabbed Magnolia and pulled her away, though she fought him at first. They moved to the railing. The ship had left the pier, and they were in the open ocean now. More shouts came from the bow as Cazador soldiers streamed up from the lower decks in response to the gunfire.
A voice that had to be el Pulpo’s roared behind X. He grabbed Miles under one arm and took Magnolia’s hand with the other.
“C’mon, Mags. Let’s dive.”
* * * * *
Michael stood next to Layla’s bed in the medical ward. She was sedated and sleeping peacefully, but she had lost a lot of blood. As soon as they reached the Hive, she would need surgery, assuming she made it that long.
Michael was still struggling to understand what had happened on the ship. X had brought Miles and Magnolia back, all of them dripping wet, but Rodger wasn’t with them.
Magnolia sat in a chair nearby with her battered head cupped in her hands, spiky black and blue hair like a storm cloud around her head. Timothy was there, too, monitoring Layla’s vitals.
“Where’s X?” Michael asked.
Timothy paused a moment, apparently tapping into the ships video system.
“He’s watching Samson, Erin, and Les make their final repairs in the engine room.”
“Final repairs?” Michael asked. “They’re almost done?”
“It would be more accurate to call them the final repairs before the ship is airworthy. More work will need to be done once we get clear of the storm.”
Michael looked at Layla, his mind in a fog. He ran his finger along the back of her hand, but she remained unconscious, unmoved by his touch.
“Mags, are you okay?” he asked.
Her pale face was blotchy with dried blood from the head injuries she had received and the tears she had shed over Rodger. But it was the radiation exposure that worried Michael the most. But for the medical supplies X had brought in his bike trailer, she would likely have died from it, and Layla would have never made it this long. Neither woman was out of danger yet, though.
A voice came over the PA system. “Timothy, this is Samson. I’ve fixed our biggest problem, which was a venting issue. Engine should be good to fire up now.”
Michael glanced at the wall-mounted monitor, studying the data. The secondary systems were mostly functional, but he was concerned about the hull’s integrity. A few more well-placed lightning hits could send them crashing back to the surface.
“Waiting for your orders, sir,” Timothy said.
Michael nodded. “Fire it up.”
The AI vanished from the room, leaving him alone with Layla and Magnolia. Michael knew they could have used his help belowdecks, but he didn’t want to leave her side.
Magnolia joined him and put her hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
Michael could tell by her tone that she wasn’t convinced. The ship vibrated as Timothy brought the engine online. For a few minutes, they waited there in silence.
The hatch opened, and X strode inside. He had trimmed his beard and was wearing black fatigues and a tactical button-down shirt that hung loosely over his lean frame.
“How’s everybody doing?” he asked, his gruff voice almost a bark.
Michael forced a half smile. “Layla’s hanging in there—a real fighter,” he replied. “Are Erin, Les, and Samson still in engineering?”
“Don’t worry, Miles is watching them,” X said. He jerked his chin at Magnolia. “How are you, kid?”
Magnolia shrugged a shoulder. “Alive.”
X then reached forward, hesitated slightly before making contact, and put a hand on Magnolia’s arm. Michael suddenly wondered how long it had been since X touched another human being.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save Rodger,” he said quietly.
Tears fell from Magnolia’s eyes. She wiped them away quickly but didn’t reply.
A glowing column of light solidified between X and Michael as Timothy’s form took shape. Michael’s stomach dropped when he saw the expression on the AI’s normally calm features.
Michael cursed. “What now?”
“Sirens,” Timothy replied. “Hundreds of them, all flocking toward the ship.”
Magnolia brushed a bright-blue lock of wet hair from her swollen eyes. “The engine. It must be attracting them the same way they’re attracted to the batteries in our suits.”
“Watch Layla,” Michael said to Magnolia, knowing he had no choice but to act now. He kissed Layla on the cheek. “I love you, and I’ll be right back.”
Layla’s eyelids fluttered, but she remained unconscious.
“You’re with me, X,” Michael said.
They hurried outside and through the corridor toward central command. The passages still smelled like smoke, and stains from the white fire-suppressant foam covered the destroyed stations inside the bridge. Monitors on the central island flashed data.
“Sitrep, Timothy,” Michael said. He made his way over to a secondary monitor.
“Secondary systems are operational, and the engine is online,” Timothy replied.
“Bring up the video feed.”
The monitor on the starboard side of the room came online, and Michael instantly saw what had the AI so concerned. The camera zoomed in on a vortex of Sirens flapping into the sky above what Michael assumed was the ITC building. They nearly blotted out the horizon as they made their way toward Deliverance.
“Get us into the air,” Michael said. He rushed over to the captain’s chair, took a seat, and brought the comm link to his lips.
“Everyone, this is Commander Everhart. Buckle in and prepare for a bumpy ride. We’re leaving Miami.” Although he wanted to be at Layla’s side, her life depended on his staying here and monitoring the flight.
“Mags, take care of Layla for me,” he said, finishing the transmission.
The turbofans clicked on below the ship, and the entire vessel vibrated as it lifted off the field.
“Retracting landing gear,” Timothy said, working through his preflight announcements methodically, with no apparent sense of urgency.
“Just get us out of here!” Michael yelled.
He watched the Sirens on the screen as they approached, their frayed wings and pale naked forms moving ever closer, flapping like huge albino bats.
“Can they get inside?” X asked, taking the chair next to Michael’s.
Timothy nodded from his position next to the central island. “There are multiple areas through which they could access the ship, including the port exhaust conduits, the—”
“Not now, Timothy,” Michael groaned. “Just get us the hell out of here.”
Lightning bloomed across the skyline, backlighting the creatures homing in on the ship. Michael closed his eyes briefly and then looked at the screen, hoping they would be spared from any lightning strikes. So far, they had managed to avoid the worst of the storm.
The Sirens weren’t so lucky. Several cartwheeled to the ground, their blackened carcasses smoking. Deliverance rose into the sky, but if they went much higher, they would be too close to the storm clouds.
“Keep us low and punch it!” Michael said, his voice hoarse from yelling so much.
“Bringing on thrusters three and four,” Timothy said.
A loud clanking sounded, but the ship didn’t lurch forward. The whining that followed told Michael something was wrong, and an alarm confirmed it a moment later.
The Sirens were closing in, having grouped themselves into the V-formation that Michael knew all too well. He could almost hear their high-pitched wails.
“Thrusters three and four are offline,” Timothy said unnecessarily.
Another clank sounded, echoing through the ship as the turbofans kept them hovering. Without thrusters, they would have to go right into the flight path of the Sirens if they wanted to leave Miami. It was either that or use the turbofans to take them into the storm, which was suicide.
“Engage forward thrusters,” Michael said.
“Thrusters one and two are online.”
The turbofans shut off, and the powerful thrusters propelled them away from the stadium and toward the coast. X fastened his harness, and they both watched the screen as Deliverance rose over the ruined buildings and raced toward the oncoming Sirens.
Michael swallowed hard and grabbed the armrests as the hundred-strong flock soared toward the massive airship, traveling at fifty miles an hour on a collision course with the flapping wall of pallid, diseased flesh.
Timothy announced, “Contacts in three, two …”
Michael focused on the screen, watching the beasts in awe. The formation broke at the last second, the creatures fanning out to either side of the ship.
Clank … clank-clank.
The sound of the Sirens crashing into the hull echoed inside the bridge. X let out a chuckle, but a blast of lightning ended it and he followed Michael’s lead, grabbing the armrests.
“Warning, threat level criti—”
Timothy silenced the automated female voice and turned off the Klaxon as they raced over the city, turning away from the shoreline and back the way they had come. The Sirens circled after them, but the airship sped away, leaving them in its exhaust trail.
Deliverance slowly did a 360-degree turn, in the process taking another lightning blast to the starboard hull. A distant boom roared through the passages and into the bridge.
“Timothy, sitrep!” Michael yelled over the noise.
“Fire in compartment six,” he replied. “I am sealing it now.”
Through the chaos, Michael managed to keep his eyes on the screen. They were heading out over the ocean as they continued to turn. In the distance, he glimpsed what had to be the rusty Cazador ship carving through the swells. It was the last thing he saw before the screen and the entire bridge went dark.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jordan stood in the bridge of the Hive with his hands clamped to the oak wheel. The countdown ticked away in his mind. He couldn’t wait to see his beautiful new ship. The ship that would keep humanity alive and thriving for centuries to come and would ensure that every child who grew up in the sky knew the name Leon Jordan.
“Sir, we’re receiving a broadcast,” Hunt reported from his station.
“Relay it to my headset,” Jordan replied.
His earpiece crackled, and Samson’s voice boomed, “Captain Jordan, this is Chief Engineer Samson, do you copy?”
“Good to hear your voice,” Jordan said, pulling the headset away from his ear to escape the deafening volume. “What’s the condition of Deliverance?”
There was a short pause, long enough to fill Jordan with anxiety.
“Sir, we took a beating on the way out of the city and are down to one thruster and three turbofans. But the engine is holding steady, and we should be able to make all necessary repairs in the skies.”
Jordan breathed out, his nerves settling. Deliverance had survived the storms, not that he had any doubts about her abilities.
“Excellent news, Samson. Stay safe, and we will see you soon.”
He shut off the comms and slowly turned the wheel toward the updated coordinates marking Deliverance’s position. The dark clouds swirled on the wall-mounted main display, and he scanned them for the first signs of the airship.
“How far out are we, Ensign Ryan?” Jordan asked.
“About five minutes, sir,” came the reply from the station above.
Jordan nodded, eyes flitting from the screen to the monitor displaying altitude, speed, and systems data. It was hard to contain his excitement. After all his sacrifices, they were finally entering a new era of human history. Today would mark a new beginning for the survivors of what had once been the dominant species on the planet. And someday, long after he was dead, his legacy would live on through their descendants, when Deliverance and the Hive finally set back down to repopulat
e Earth.
“Should be getting a visual in a minute or so,” Ryan said.
Hunt walked down the ramp and stood next to Jordan. “Sir, I just wanted to say …”
Jordan looked over at his second-in-command. “Yes?”
“To say thank you and that I’m proud to serve with you,” Hunt finished.
A quick scan of the room revealed officers from all directions looking down at Jordan, excitement and something else in their gaze—something that Jordan hadn’t seen for a very long time.
Hope.
He nodded proudly and turned back to the screen. He pushed the mike back to his lips and ordered Hunt to open a shipwide transmission.
“To every soul on the Hive, this is Captain Jordan speaking. In a few minutes, we will be docking with the airship Deliverance. This ship is newer, faster, and better in every way than the Hive, and I’m proud to bring her home to us in the skies.”
What he didn’t tell them was that not everyone would be moving over to the new airship. The lower-deckers, the sick, and any other undesirable passengers would stay on the Hive. And while the two ships would remain in the skies together, they wouldn’t be connected.
“In the coming months, we will deploy more Hell Diver teams to the surface to retrieve the parts we need to make Deliverance a second lifeboat for humanity,” Jordan continued. “Once our engineers have retrofitted Deliverance, we will have the ability to grow more food, recycle more clean water, and provide a better standard of living.”
He left out the part about where the Hell Divers would come from and how many would likely die in the process. All that mattered—and all that these people needed to hear—was the promise of more food and nicer accommodations.
Jordan thought of Katrina, and then of their child, who would never get to see Deliverance. But this time his heart wasn’t filled with sorrow. The sacrifices were all worth it. And best of all, Janga had been wrong all along. There would be no man to lead them to a new home under the water or in the water.
There was just one man—Leon Jordan—the hero who had found a new home for humanity in the skies.
Several voices rang out behind him, and he followed Hunt’s finger to the wall-mounted monitor.
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