Hell Divers IV: Wolves

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  She didn’t need verbal orders. She knew that it was time to run.

  FIFTEEN

  Sheets of rain pummeled the Sea Wolf in choppy waters. X aimed the speargun at the top of the mainmast, waiting for the right moment to fire.

  “Get ready, Mags!” he yelled.

  She moved into position next to the mainmast. They had brought the sails up from the lower deck and fastened them to the mainmast and mizzenmast.

  The next step was to try to straighten the kinked mainmast without snapping it at the top. If that happened, they were dead in the water.

  With nothing but the rudders to orient them, the vessel was already at the mercy of the waves, and it was really starting to make X cranky.

  He kicked away a bloody shark fin that came skidding across the slick deck, then planted his boots firmly, careful not to slip in the sticky blood pooled near the stern, where he had butchered the carcass before dumping most of it overboard.

  The vessel briefly leveled out, and he seized the moment to squeeze the trigger.

  The tip penetrated the hollow mast and broke through the other side. The line from the spear tautened, and the winch engaged. He grabbed the wheel handle and began to crank it manually.

  The line could handle up to a ton of resistance, perhaps a bit more. After all, it had dragged a giant shark through the water back at the Turks and Caicos Islands.

  Looking up, he watched the mast begin to bend back into place.

  “Pepper, do you copy?” Sweat stung his eyes.

  “Copy you, sir.”

  “Make sure we’ve got our back to the wind,” X ordered. He squinted as if that would help him see through the water running down his visor. Across the deck, near the stern, stood Magnolia.

  He felt a slight change in course under his boots as the AI worked the rudders. The Sea Wolf cut through the water as he continued cranking the winch.

  “Okay, let’s go!” X shouted.

  Magnolia grabbed a halyard and began pulling back on it, lifting the mainsail up the newly straightened mast. Once it was most of the way up, she transferred to the winch. She wrapped a rope three times around the drum and then began cranking the winch manually.

  “Careful, Mags!” X yelled.

  The wind had picked up over the past half hour, and too much added pull could break the mast. He checked the top again before cranking it tighter. The mast was almost straight now.

  X moved over to help Magnolia with the winch. She kept cranking and shook her head at him.

  “I’ve got this,” she said.

  X grabbed the halyard to keep the mainsail from flopping around as she raised it toward the top of the straightened mast.

  “Almost there!” Mags shouted.

  The wind filled the sail, and the Sea Wolf moved faster, or so it seemed. They both took a step back to look at their contraption. For this to work, the line from the speargun had to hold. It meant they wouldn’t be able to use that weapon for its intended purpose, but they had several others and plenty of firepower in the top cabin. The most important thing to do now was keep moving.

  And moving they were.

  X walked around the mast to take another look at the spear. He stopped when he saw the front of the black sail, and felt a little swell of pride.

  “I’ll be damned …”

  “What?” Magnolia asked. She joined him before the sail and put her hands on her duty belt, clearly impressed.

  “Wow, that looks pretty amazing.”

  “Looks kind of like Miles,” X said, studying the sail. Someone back on the Hive had done one hell of a job with the stitching. The face of a wolf towered above them, the deep-yellow eyes looking ahead at the storm clouds, watching out over them.

  “Let’s get to work on the other sail,” X said.

  At the stern, they followed the same process with the winch and halyard to raise the smaller sail. The wind pummeled them as they worked, but moving together, Magnolia and X finally managed to get it raised.

  “Good job, old man,” she said when they finished.

  “You, too, kid.”

  His words trailed off when he saw the skyline to the southeast. Magnolia finished tightening another rope, but X walked toward the starboard side, where the barbed wire still lined the rail.

  “Where you going?” she called out.

  X halted next to the rail, wary of any beasts lurking in the dark water. But his eyes weren’t on the whitecaps slapping against the hull—they were on the strange light area in the sky.

  On the horizon, diagonal lines streaked down toward the ocean. The sheets of rain seemed so perfect, the view could have been an old-world painting, but this was real.

  “Mags, you seeing this?”

  She joined him starboard of the mainsail. To the southeast, the storm was definitely a paler shade, almost a light purple.

  “What in Hades is that?” she asked.

  X held up his wrist monitor and clicked on the cracked screen to pull up a map of their location. They appeared to be northwest of the strange skyline.

  “Timothy where are we, exactly?” he asked over the channel.

  “East of Puerto Rico, and about fifteen miles northwest of the Virgin Islands, sir.”

  “Change course. Head southeast. I want to check something out.”

  “Roger, Commander.”

  The wind pummeled the sails as the boat turned. X and Magnolia continued to stare at the sky. The shades of purple and light blue streaked across the horizon like a ripe bruise.

  “It’s a beacon,” X said.

  “How’s that?” Magnolia shot him a sidelong glance.

  “Explorers once used the stars like a map to guide them. We have something even better to guide us to the Metal Islands.”

  “You think that’s …” Magnolia could not take her eyes away from the strange lightening in the southeast.

  “Come on, kid, let’s get back inside. We have work to do.”

  She followed him across the slippery deck, looking over her shoulder several times as Timothy piloted the boat through the rough waves.

  If this led where X thought it led, they would need to prepare. He stopped before opening the hatch to the cabin, and looked up at the image of the Wolf flapping in the wind.

  The Sea Wolves were finally nearing their objective.

  * * * * *

  “Stay put. It’s too dangerous right now.”

  Hearing Layla’s voice, Michael ran faster across the pier despite his injuries. He moved away from the ITC ship where he had left Erin.

  He was breaking the cardinal rule of diving on the surface: never split up. But what choice did he have?

  He kept his rifle cradled as he moved. Both legs hurt with every step. The impact with the ocean had rubbed muscle against the kneecap, and it felt as if his muscles were grinding over the bone.

  “Where are you, Layla?” he said, trying his best not to shout. “Tell me where you are.”

  Her voice hissed over the channel. “We’re hiding in the command center, but it’s—”

  Another screech sounded, and then the channel went dead.

  Michael slowed in the middle of the pier, rain coursing down his visor, breath steaming the inside.

  “Son of a bitch.” He wasn’t sure what to do, although he definitely wasn’t going to hide.

  He opened a channel to Erin. “Can you make it topside?”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Good. We may need you as a sniper. I’m going into Red Sphere.”

  “Figured you would. Be careful, and good luck, Commander.”

  “Same to you.”

  He continued toward the open doors where Layla and Les had entered. His fast pace across the platform surrounding Red Sphere brought a surge of pain up his knees and thighs, and by the time he re
ached the garage, he was gritting his teeth. An electronic wail came from inside the building the moment he crossed into the dark garage.

  This place was no tomb after all.

  The distant electronic discord gave him a chill.

  Red Sphere wasn’t an abandoned outpost. Like many other ITC facilities, it was a haven for beasts. He had trusted Captain DaVita just as he had once trusted Captain Jordan and, before him, Captain Ash.

  Now the most important woman in the world to him, and arguably one of the most important men left in the world were trapped inside, he could hardly run, and Erin was injured and alone back on the ITC ship.

  Sometimes you just had to get it done yourself, even when you weren’t in any shape to do it. Bringing up his rifle, he moved toward the two armored vehicles.

  Layla and Les had gone idle on his HUD, but they were still alive. He could see their beacons; neither moved. She had severed the channel to keep quiet, he realized.

  He slowed to a walk and skirted both vehicles, clearing the room in a quick sweep.

  Light flickered beyond the open door.

  The other divers had successfully turned on the battery backup, but they had also woken something best left dormant. But how could anything have survived here so long?

  In his mind’s eye, he saw the bone pile back on the ITC ship.

  The Sirens must have moved back into Red Sphere after exhausting the supplies and food source up here. It was the only explanation. He moved through a door into the hallway. Recessed lights lit some sections of the passage, while other sections were in shadow.

  Rifle butt nestled against the sweet spot in his shoulder, he stepped onto the tile floor. A body lying in the intersection ahead made his heart thud, but then a flash of light from the open elevator shaft illuminated skeletal remains.

  It wasn’t Layla or Les.

  He moved forward until he reached the bones. The left side of the passage was blocked, but the right was clear. He didn’t stop to check the remains and continued with his finger on the trigger guard.

  A howling sounded outside the garage behind him, but it was just the wind. The electronic wail from earlier was gone, replaced by what sounded like clicking joints, almost mechanical in nature, like some sort of freak robotic spider.

  Another body lay ahead.

  This time, he bent down to check the helmet. The cracked visor opened to a nose and empty eye sockets. The dried skin was stretched in a mask of horror.

  Michael stood, wincing in pain, and checked his HUD again. The beacons were blinking from left to right.

  Layla and Les were moving.

  He still couldn’t tell where they were in the facility, but he decided to try the door that stood ajar on his right, opening into a stairwell.

  Angling his gun downward, he moved as fast as he could. The pain in his knees had melted away in the adrenaline coursing through his body.

  Layla, I’m on my way …

  He pressed down the stairs, passing landing after landing with no door to the facility.

  On the sixth floor, he froze.

  Static crackled in his helmet.

  “Commander, something’s moving topside.”

  It was Erin, and her voice was shaky—in itself a rare thing.

  “What do you see?”

  “I’m not sure … too far away to tell.”

  “Stay out of sight, Erin. That’s an order.”

  As if in reply, a screech sounded, but it wasn’t coming from outside or over the comm.

  Michael rounded the landing, pointing his rifle down into the darkness. Around the next corner, an orange glow pulsed like a heartbeat, growing brighter by the second. The same clanking sound he had heard earlier came from the depths of the stairwell.

  This didn’t sound like a single Siren—it sounded like a pack of them.

  He moved his finger inside the trigger guard, ready to blast the mutant freaks back into whatever hell had spawned them.

  Another wave of static rushed over the channel.

  “Michael, we’re on the move, headed topside.”

  This time it was Layla.

  His eyes darted back to the HUD. The beacons were moving faster. Les and Layla were running.

  “I’m on a stairwell about five floors down,” he whispered. “I see something … a red …”

  “What? Commander you’re breaking up,” Les said.

  “I see a red—”

  The electronic screech that followed shut him up. Clanking metal and claws on concrete echoed up the stairwell, and Michael gripped his rifle tighter.

  Come on, you freaks. Show your ugly faces.

  The pack of Sirens was right around the corner now.

  Layla’s voice flooded the channel again. “Michael, get out of there!”

  He knew that running would just delay the inevitable, assuming he could even run up the stairs at all. It hurt worse to climb than to run.

  He was going to have to face them sooner or later.

  “I’m standing my ground,” he said. “You two get topside with Erin. She’ll cover you.”

  “Michael, you can’t fight!” Les said before another wail cut him off. This one was different from the electronic shriek the Sirens made back on the surface.

  Michael stared at the orange glow. What the hell was giving off that light?

  He moved his finger onto the trigger, ready to unleash a flurry of automatic fire. The light intensified, spreading over the walls. A shadow bounded up the stairs, and he got his first glimpse of the monster.

  The image of an elongated head with horns, a humanoid torso, and long claws moved over the walls.

  This was no Siren.

  Michael pulled the trigger as soon as the beast came into view—

  a humanoid figure wearing the skull of a cow. The orange light blazed out of the bone eye sockets, emanating from an orange visor behind the open mouth of the cow skull.

  Bullets shattered the bone armor the creature wore, and punched into metal behind it. The skull reared back, and the beast let out a roar that sent a shiver prickling over his flesh.

  He continued firing, the muzzle flash mixing with the eerie orange glow. Empty casings bounced off the stairs as the rounds broke off more and more of the bones covering the metal body.

  The din of gunfire cracked and echoed, mixing with the electronic sounds of rage.

  By the time he emptied the magazine, the skull was halfway broken off, revealing a humanoid metal skull. The creature, whatever it was, stumbled backward, hitting the wall so hard, the front plate of bones covering its chest fell and shattered on the ground. A battery unit—the source of the orange light—glowed in the center of its chest.

  The sight played tricks on Michael’s mind, and for a moment he thought he was staring at some demon Hell Diver who had come back from the dead.

  But this was no man. This wasn’t even a beast.

  The orange light glowing from the center of the metal skin was an engine powering a machine.

  An AI …

  The defectors that had killed Dr. Diaz and his team weren’t human after all, and they had been here all this time, waiting for the next humans to murder.

  “Michael, run!” Layla shouted over the comms.

  Her words snapped him back into action. He took a few backward steps up the stairs while reaching for another magazine. Before he could punch it into the carbine, a second machine emerged behind the first. This one wore the bones of multiple animals and humans. A reptilian skull crested the top of a humanoid face.

  It raised a black weapon with a curved olive handle and thin muzzle. Michael brought his rifle up to fire, but the robot got in the first shot.

  A dazzling blue bolt sizzled through the air. He felt something cold rip through his arm. His mind sent a message to his finger to pull the
trigger, but his finger didn’t respond.

  The gun fell in two pieces.

  It took him a few seconds to understand that the bolt had sliced the weapon in two, and another second to realize that the same blue bolt had severed his right arm a few inches below the shoulder. He watched the weapon clatter onto the stairs, with his finger still in the trigger guard.

  Another blue bolt blasted the air next to his helmet and sliced into the wall behind him. He moved to his right just in time to avoid a third bolt, which hit the overhead, shattering a light and darkening the stairwell above him.

  More bolts sizzled through the air.

  A voice yelled out, followed by muzzle flashes from behind the two machines. The stairwell lit up with red and blue flashes.

  Rounds slammed into the bone-covered machines. The machine with the broken cow head fell to the floor, and Michael crashed to his knees on the landing above it, looking down the stairwell in horror.

  At the bottom of the next landing, a tall figure emerged with a blaster.

  Les …

  Les put the gun muzzle against the head of the robot that had shot Michael. The fiery blast took off the top of the skull, and sparks erupted off the metal beneath.

  Layla ran past Les and bounded up the stairs toward Michael.

  “Michael. Oh, my god!”

  She bent down and put a hand under the armpit of his good arm while Les continued firing at the other hostiles. The second one wouldn’t go down, and the first was starting to get back on its feet. Their metallic shells deflected the 5.56-millimeter rounds as if they were rocks flung by a child.

  “Run!” Les yelled. “Get him out of here!”

  Michael pulled the blaster out of his holster as she helped him up. Though he wasn’t used to shooting with his left hand, he managed to fire both shotgun rounds into the struggling machine on the landing below.

  The buckshot slammed into the neck and torso, sending it careening past Les and crashing down the stairs. An electronic wail followed as it toppled down into darkness, the orange light fading like a guttering candle.

  Michael dropped the gun, his vision fading in and out as Layla helped him to his feet. Time seemed to slow to an agonizing pace, and his vision grew blurry as if he were looking through ice.