Warriors

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  X waved up to her and then set off with Victor. Side by side, they ran for the fence and disappeared around a shipping container.

  Magnolia slung her rifle and set off to join them when a footfall made her freeze. With no time to unsling her rifle, she unsheathed one of her crescent blades.

  Whirling, she raised it, only to have it smacked away. Her blade flew across the room, clanking against a wall.

  A hand grabbed her around the neck and lifted her off the ground. She kicked at armored legs as she stared at the helmet of a massive skinwalker holding an axe.

  Several more soldiers in bulky armor adorned with bloody skin flanked the warrior. He squeezed tighter, cutting off her airway.

  She kicked and grabbed his wrist, but nothing worked. The man held her up higher, and she saw the horn on top of his helmet.

  It was the last thing she saw before the red border of her vision encroached, turning everything dark.

  * * * * *

  Les had abandoned the idea of hiding and ran through the jungle with the other divers, not even trying to cut down the barbed branches and spiky blades in his path. Laser bolts singed the air, raining bark and leaves down from the canopy.

  He was trying to put all the distance he could between his team and the machines.

  Lasers punched into tree trunks, bursting out the other side in bright streaks that seemed to reach infinity. An artillery shell whistled overhead and streaked into the jungle, exploding in a brilliant orange glow. Leaves and branches fell blazing to the ground.

  Another shell sheared the top off a tree to his left. The blast shot out hundreds of little splinters that punched into his armor, leaving spikes like the bristles on a caterpillar. Pain lanced down his arm where one of the slivers jabbed through an interstice between armor plates.

  He gritted his teeth and plucked it out, only to trip over a root and fall flat on his stomach.

  “Captain!”

  Michael waved from what looked like a drop-off in the jungle. He ran over to Les, yelling something that Les couldn’t make out over the ringing in his ears.

  Smoke whirled around them as flames lapped upward, igniting the dry bark of towering trees. Embers fell like flakes of burning snow.

  Les turned to see Edgar helping Lena through the labyrinthine foliage. They took off for the area Michael had waved from, but Arlo and Sofia were nowhere in sight.

  Another flurry of laser bolts strobed through the forest, slicing through everything in their path. He had a feeling the two young divers were already cut to pieces by the bolts.

  He pushed at the ground but hesitated when he saw pulsating light through the trees. Michael started moving, then froze.

  Bumping off his NVGs gave Les a clearer view.

  A platoon of orange visors strode into the forest, looking like old-world soldiers. But these soldiers would not show mercy. They would not take prisoners or lay down their weapons if surrounded. They would fight to the end and kill to the very last machine.

  They had one purpose: to end humanity.

  Bolts sprayed from their guns. Branches fell, and a monstrous tree split at the crotch, both halves knocking down many of their neighbors.

  “Let’s go!” Michael said. “Stay low.”

  Les pushed himself up on his knees, trying to stay close to the ground as he crawled. A cracking sound came from the advancing army, and he got his first view of one of the beetle tanks.

  The six segmented legs were taller than the defectors, probably even taller than Les. The turret rotated with at least six long tubular weapons. He got only a glimpse before the tubes opened fire, raking through the forest.

  As the machines and tanks entered the jungle, the barrage from the distant cannons stopped. Les started moving in a crouch, listening to the mechanical joints of the tanks as they strode into the forest.

  A figure came running from about halfway between Les and the machines. Dozens of bolts cut overhead, and he held a breath as the Hell Diver zigged and zagged, ducking under branches and darting between two trees.

  “Help!” the diver screamed.

  Les could hear the nasal voice over the ringing in his ears. It was Arlo, and here he came, screaming and diving to the ground between Les and Michael. He rolled onto his back, gasping.

  “What the hell do we do?” Arlo yelled.

  “Stay down and follow me,” Michael said. “There’s some protection behind those trees.”

  “Where is Sofia?” Les shouted.

  Arlo shook his head. “She fell . . .”

  “Come on!” Michael commanded. He started crawling under the spray of bolts, and Les and Arlo followed. They moved around a tree, and Michael got up to lay down covering fire.

  “No!” Les said. “That’ll tell them where we are.”

  Michael nodded and pulled something off his vest. “Get down; then run.”

  The final EMP grenade. He pushed a button and lobbed it at the wave of approaching robot infantry.

  Les shook Arlo, who lay trembling on the ground.

  “Run when I tell you,” Les said.

  Arlo managed a nod.

  Michael raised his rifle again, his back to the tree, and sneaked a glance.

  “Go now!” he shouted.

  Les grabbed Arlo and pulled him up, and they ran together, zigzagging as low as they could go. The stream of laser bolts had all but stopped.

  Edgar fired his sniper rifle from a prone position between two trees just ahead.

  Les and Arlo made it to the drop-off Michael had found earlier. Unable to stop, Arlo yelped as he tumbled down the side. Les tried to grab him but almost went over with him.

  Digging his boots into the dirt, Les watched helplessly as Arlo pitchpoled right past Lena and banged into a tree twenty feet below.

  Lena went after Arlo, and Les turned to help Edgar.

  “Where’s Tin?” Les yelled.

  Edgar took his shot, then pointed.

  Following Edgar’s finger, Les saw a figure advancing toward the machines disabled by the EMP grenade, firing laser bolts so they would never walk again.

  The blast had taken down half of them, but others advanced through the curtain of smoke.

  Michael fired calculated shots, destroying several of the machines.

  “We have to help!” Les said. He got up, but Edgar yanked him back down.

  “You nuts, Cap?” he asked.

  Chest heaving, Les watched in horror as Michael fought his way deeper into enemy territory. But it wasn’t simply the urge to kill that was driving the commander mad. Les saw where Michael was heading.

  Sofia was slouched against a tree, holding her shoulder. The armor glowed red where a bolt had singed the plate.

  A crack from Edgar’s rifle refocused Les. Another machine went down from an armor-piercing round to the skull. Les aimed his laser rifle at the defectors closing in on Michael. He had gotten to Sofia and reached down to help her up.

  Two defectors burst through the bushes to the right of the tree. Edgar took one down, and Michael reached up with his robotic hand and slapped the other machine’s laser muzzle away. Then he punched it in the chest with his robotic hand, breaking the exoskeleton and shattering the battery.

  The machine toppled to the ground.

  Les fired more bolts into the machines trying to flank the two divers. Several went down from well-aimed shots, but more came. Les had no idea how Michael and Sofia could make it to the drop-off without being cut down.

  There had to be at least twenty more machines in the jungle, plus the two tanks pushing their way through burning trees.

  Les and Edgar fired over and over, doing their best to help. The staccato crack of automatic gunfire joined the din, and in his peripheral vision Les saw Lena pull out another magazine and palm it into her assault rifle.

  Ret
urn fire kicked up dirt in front of the rock and then found the boulder. The three divers hunkered down under the flurry of lasers.

  “What do we do now?” Edgar asked.

  Bolts pounded the rock and blew limbs off trees as Les crawled around the boulder to sneak a look.

  Michael and Sofia were trapped behind a massive tree. Ten or more orange visors homed in, unleashing an onslaught of bolts into the tree.

  The lasers broke through like a chainsaw until it cracked in the middle.

  “Michael!” Les shouted.

  Michael gripped his laser rifle to his chest and looked at the boulder. Then he waved at Les, motioning for him to retreat.

  “We have to go, or we’re all going to die,” Edgar said.

  Lena crawled backward as bits of rocks pattered down, mixing with the bark and foliage from the trees.

  Edgar grabbed Les, but Les pulled out of his grip.

  “I can’t leave them,” he said. He reached into his vest and pulled out the device containing the virus. “Take this, and complete the mission with Lena and Arlo if I don’t make it.”

  “Sir, you . . .”

  A bolt flashed by their helmets, cutting Edgar off. Then came what sounded like multiple shells screaming through the sky. Both men looked up as detonations filled the night.

  Rockets descended like destroying angels from the clouds, ripping into the jungle canopy and making the ground rumble.

  Les got up as defectors cartwheeled through the air like thrown rag dolls. An entire infantry column vanished in a wave of fire.

  “run!” he yelled to Michael.

  Michael was already on his feet, helping Sofia up.

  Les and Edgar fell back into firing positions to cover their retreat.

  The entire jungle seemed to light up in a bright glare of the missile blasts.

  Timothy was giving the machines much more than just a distraction. The AI was giving the other AIs a beating.

  Michael and Sofia made it to the boulder, and they all slid down the hill.

  Arlo was at the bottom, standing now.

  “This way!” Lena said.

  The team headed into the ravine and toward a slope up. As they climbed, a view of the white-capped mountain rose in front of them.

  It took a few minutes to work their way up through thick bushes and spiky plants. At the crest of the hill, they could see the burning jungle and the ground scorched between it and the fortress. Twisted remains of machines littered the smoking dirt.

  A humming sound came from above. It wasn’t a drone.

  Les looked up and saw the outline of Discovery. He raised a hand, knowing that Timothy couldn’t see him.

  As if in response, another salvo of missiles tore through the clouds and slammed into the fortress wall, opening gaping holes.

  “Now’s our chance!” Michael yelled. “Let’s go!”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The little catamaran had slipped ahead of the aircraft carrier in the darkness, but time was running out for Ada to reach the Vanguard Islands and warn King Xavier about the machines.

  In a few hours, her sails would penetrate the barrier between dark and light. The only saving grace was that the machines had slowed and stopped their ship. Planning their attack, or waiting for orders.

  She remained on the weather deck, holding the wheel and wearing one of the life jackets she had found inside the cabin. The protection helped her manage her anxiety, although it was building again. With each wave her hulls thumped over, the anticipation grew. She had endured hell in the wastes, but that would all be a walk in the park, as they used to say, if the machines reached the islands.

  She turned for a parting look at the aircraft carrier, but she had sailed out of view.

  A pounding sounded below.

  Jo-Jo hammered at the hatch, wanting out of the cabin. The monkey’s constant slamming was grating on her nerves, but she couldn’t go and check on it now.

  The black wall ahead seemed to lighten, or perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on her. According to her wrist monitor, she was still at least twenty miles from the barrier.

  Ada took one hand off the wheel to use her binoculars. Holding them to her cracked visor, she raked them over the waves, stopping on a shape that jutted out of the ocean.

  The sails flapped, hit by a crosswind that shook the boat. She nearly lost the binos over the gunwale. She put them away and grabbed the wheel, trying to keep the craft steady.

  Moments later, a blast of lightning stabbed the horizon like a spear from the heavens.

  In the glow, she saw a tower on the water.

  She remembered then, several oil rigs were outside the barrier. This was where the Cazadores kept their prisoners—a place she could have been sent if not exiled. The Shark’s Cage.

  She steered toward it, thrilled at her good luck. They would have a communication system there—a way to radio the king about what was coming. She hoped he was still alive to fight.

  Thunder rattled the boat, and another lightning strike fired the horizon, but she kept going toward the rig, undeterred.

  A chill ran up her spine when she spotted something over her shoulder. She kept her gaze on that grid of ocean, but after a few moments, she marked it off as a wave.

  She still had time.

  Before her loomed the oil rig turned prison. The southern side had a marina where several boats were docked.

  It had been a long time since she saw another human, and she prayed there were at least a few militia soldiers here, though she doubted it.

  Tired, injured, and cranky, she wasn’t in the mood to talk to Cazadores.

  Waves slapped at the boat as she sailed toward the piers. She eased off the sails, trying to slow the boat. This was the first time she had ever tried to dock.

  All that matters is getting there, even if you destroy the boat.

  But if she crashed, that could injure Jo-Jo. She realized then that the pounding below had stopped. Maybe that was good.

  Ada put the monkey out of her mind. As she sailed closer, one question consumed her: How had the machines found them?

  A cracking sound snapped her away from the implications. The damn monkey was trying to escape.

  Ada was locking the wheel when she heard the shattering of glass on the starboard side of the boat. A bundle of dark fur emerged on the aft ladder. Two wide black eyes stared at her.

  “You little shit!” she yelled. “Get over here!”

  Jo-Jo climbed up onto the deck and clung to her leg.

  Ada grabbed the steering wheel again. A wave slapped the port side, dousing them in water. She wasn’t sure Jo-Jo could swim, and didn’t want it to freak out when it saw other humans, especially Cazadores in full armor.

  Ada eyed the other life jacket she had found belowdecks. It was out of reach, and with Jo-Jo clinging to her leg she couldn’t nudge it with her boot.

  The rig was close now, the docks within view.

  Letting go of the wheel, she hobbled over to the jacket, with Jo-Jo stuck like a limpet to her leg. She strapped the creature into the jacket, then hurried back to the wheel.

  Right as she grabbed it, a rumbling sounded over the waves, commanding both her and the creature’s attention. The noise was from a motor.

  A light blasted the sailboat, blinding Ada and sending the monkey bolting.

  “No!” Ada shouted.

  She raised a hand to block the spotlight beam. The creature had gone now, retreating to the lower deck.

  Another beam hit Ada in the side of the head, forcing her to turn away, and she heard the chug of another motor.

  Over the engine noise came shouting, all in Spanish.

  A flare streaked into the sky, exploding in a bright-red burst.

  In the glow, she spotted multiple small vessels closing in from different d
irections.

  Within minutes, the sailboat was surrounded.

  “Lower your sails!” someone shouted in English.

  “It’s me, Ada Winslow!” she yelled back. “The machines are coming!”

  “Shut up and lower your sails!”

  She decided to do as ordered.

  Six boats closed in as she slowed her craft.

  “There’s something on the deck behind the mast!” someone shouted. “Some sort of . . .”

  Ada turned to look for Jo-Jo but froze when a gunshot cracked.

  “Hands up and don’t move!” yelled the same voice from earlier.

  “You have to listen to me!” she cried. “There is a ship, an aircraft carrier of machines heading this way!”

  No one replied at first.

  Then came laughter.

  “Hands up. Don’t make me tell you again!”

  A voice in Spanish followed—someone giving orders. Two of the boats approached, men on the bows, ready to jump onto her deck. Not just Cazadores. The militia was here, too, and they might shoot her strange companion out of fear.

  She raised her hands and slowly turned. “Please! You have to listen to me!”

  “We’re coming aboard. Don’t move!”

  The monkey whimpered. It was hiding somewhere below, and she had to get to it before the soldiers did. She walked away from the wheel, holding a breath in her chest, waiting for bullets to pierce her flesh.

  She made it to the ladder. Bathed in light, she stood there, searching the deck for Jo-Jo.

  She found the monkey in a corner on the port side, by a lashed-down stack of crates. She pushed her luck by climbing down the ladder.

  Several voices called out to stop her, but no bullets came. She got to the deck and hurried over to Jo-Jo, petting the monkey with one hand and keeping the other hand above her head.

  The two boats that had started to approach had stalled. She could hear distant voices, all of them quieter now.

  Then, over the chug of outboard motors, she heard humming.

  “What is that?” a soldier asked.

  Ada turned toward the Shark’s Cage but saw nothing. Then she looked out over the ocean. The warriors in the boats were doing the same thing, turning in all directions.