Hell Divers IV: Wolves

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  If the Hell Divers came. She just had to hope they would, and survive until then.

  “It’s going to be okay, buddy,” Magnolia whispered. “Our friends are coming for us.”

  TWENTY

  Michael awoke to a cold touch on his left arm. In the dim light, his eyes confirmed that no, his missing right arm was not just a dream. He raised the stump, covered now in a fresh bandage.

  “Tin,” Layla whispered.

  He batted his eyelids, trying to see through the blur and remember why he was lying in a dark room that smelled like rain. The single recessed light illuminated several empty beds and an operating table.

  He remembered then—all of it. The memories of Red Sphere came crashing over him in a tsunami of emotions that ended with the thought of X, Magnolia, and Miles.

  He was in the medical bay aboard the USS Zion, and Erin was dead. Ramon, too.

  “Michael, can you hear me?” Layla said.

  “Have we heard from the Sea Wolf?”

  “I … I’m not sure.” Layla’s face came into focus then, and despite her frazzled hair and swollen eyes, she looked more beautiful than ever. She smiled and bent down to kiss his forehead.

  The touch softened the blow of the memories.

  “Sorry to wake you, but there’s something Katrina wants to tell us,” Layla whispered. “You up for some exercise?”

  “Yeah, but just give me a minute. I’m really dizzy.” The pain medicine had made him so drowsy, he could hardly sit up without seeing stars. He hated asking for help, but he was smart enough to know when he needed it.

  He draped his left arm around Layla’s neck. She folded the centuries-old blankets that Les had brought them, and propped them under his back. The rough, scratchy material made his skin itch, and the dust prompted a sneeze.

  Jolting forward sent a wave of pain through his body, but it quickly subsided. The painkillers were doing their job, but they were making him so tired he could hardly function.

  “Feel better?” Layla asked.

  He answered by swinging his legs over the bed and resting his feet on the cold deck. Standing, he waited for a new wave of dizziness to pass.

  “You good?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He looked over at the bed formerly occupied by Edgar Cervantes. Bloody rags littered the floor.

  “He’s topside,” Layla said. “Everyone is.”

  “Okay, I’m ready.” Michael groaned and took the first few steps across the medical bay. They stopped for Layla to open the hatch and then began working their way down a passageway covered in grime.

  “What’s so important that Katrina couldn’t come down here?” Michael asked.

  “You’ll have to hear this from her.”

  He shot her a sideways glance, halting right before they reached the first ladder. An overhead light flickered, shrouding them momentarily in darkness. When it warmed back to life, the glow spread over bulkheads streaked with black mold.

  She met his gaze but still wouldn’t tell him what was going on.

  The ship groaned and rocked subtly—an indication they were picking up speed.

  “We in a hurry?” he asked.

  “Katrina will explain everything in a few minutes.”

  A voice came from the top of the ladder well.

  “Cap’s waiting, Commander Everhart.”

  It was Jaideep. He stood at the next landing, still clutching his rifle. Michael hurried with Layla’s support, a sudden burst of energy fueling his body. He had a feeling he knew what this was about.

  They trekked through the rest of the stealth warship in silence but for the click of their boots on the metal deck. When they reached the bridge, everyone was already there. Les, Katrina, Trey, and Jaideep stood near the portholes, looking out over the dark sky. Edgar sat in a chair, a bandage wrapped around his muscular torso.

  “Captain,” Layla said as they entered.

  Katrina turned and smiled warmly at Michael. “How are you, Commander?”

  “Well enough, I suppose. What’s this all about?”

  Waves burst over the bow, and the ship pitched forward a few degrees. Michael groped for Layla, who helped steady him.

  “Have a seat, Michael,” Katrina said.

  “No, thanks. I’m okay standing. Tell me what’s going on. Is it X? Did something happen to X and Mags?” Michael caught Katrina’s gaze.

  “Magnolia and X found the Metal Islands,” she said.

  Layla held Michael tighter, and Jaideep stopped fidgeting with his gold earring. Edgar stood, trying to keep a straight face through the pain he was surely experiencing.

  Trey was first to speak. “Where? Where are they?”

  “Off the western Virgin Islands,” Katrina said. “But before we celebrate, I have bad news. Things didn’t go to plan when the Sea Wolf arrived. After receiving the initial messages from Magnolia, we received a message from Timothy Pepper.”

  She pushed a button on the station beside where she stood.

  “Captain DaVita, this is Timothy Pepper. The Sea Wolf has been raided by Cazadores. Magnolia and Miles have been captured, and Commander Rodriguez is currently pursuing the men who took them.”

  Michael’s heart sank at the news, and all the energy he had felt earlier drained away. His knees suddenly felt as if they were going to buckle.

  A second message followed the first.

  “I will continue to report any updates until the batteries are drained or the Sea Wolf is destroyed.”

  The feed shut off, and Michael stumbled past Katrina. Layla reached out for him, but he evaded her grip.

  “Where’s the comm station?” he said. For the first time in hours, he was thinking about something other than the pain.

  He moved from station to station as Layla called out after him.

  “Michael, calm down.”

  Katrina followed him and then pointed toward a row of stations near a cracked glass window.

  “I’ve already changed course,” she said.

  He stopped and turned to face the other divers.

  “We’re on our way to the coordinates Magnolia sent, but we’re a long way from them,” Katrina said. “And, Michael, I know this is going to sting, because I can hardly bear the thought myself. But for all we know, they’re already dead.”

  “No. They’re alive,” Michael replied.

  “Perhaps,” Les said, “but by the time we get there, they probably will be—assuming we have enough battery to even get there at all. I’m sorry, Commander. We’re just stating the truth.”

  Michael looked down at the archaic radio controls, trying to figure out where the handset was. Reaching out with his right stump, he tried to grab it, but his reflexes still hadn’t registered that he was missing an arm.

  Michael swore, frustration breaking through. He swiped the handset off the station, but with only one hand, he had no way of turning the dial.

  “Tin,” Layla whispered.

  When he turned, everyone was staring at him.

  “Someone fucking help me contact Timothy!” he snapped.

  Les moved over and spun the knob to the channel he was apparently using to talk to the Sea Wolf.

  “Timothy, this is Commander Everhart. Do you copy?” Michael said.

  Static.

  He could feel the eyes on his back, but he didn’t care.

  “Timothy, do you copy?”

  A long flurry of white noise ensued, and then a voice.

  “Roger, Commander Everhart, this is Timothy Pepper of the Sea Wolf.”

  Michael blinked away the stars before his vision, pushing out a tear. He didn’t care who saw it.

  “Timothy, do you know where X is now? How about Miles and Magnolia?”

  “X is still giving chase and is reporting multiple contacts.”

 
“Define ‘multiple,’” Michael replied.

  “Thousands. There are thousands of Cazadores, maybe more. They are well armed, too, sir. I’m still picking up the beacons for Miles and Magnolia, so I know they are alive.”

  Katrina stepped up next to Michael, her arms folded across her chest.

  “Pepper, this is Captain DaVita. Can you tell us exactly how many of these platforms there are?”

  “I count twenty within sight, Captain. It’s possible there are even more Cazadores in other locations. But again, this is just a guess based on what I can see from my current location and what Commander Rodriguez has been reporting.”

  “Keep us updated,” Michael said. “We’re on our way.”

  “Roger, sir.”

  Michael slowly lowered the handset back into its slot on the station. Then he sat in the leather chair, holding his bandaged stump, defeated.

  “They have an army,” Les said. “More than an army.”

  Everyone looked to Katrina.

  “We have to find a way to contact Deliverance,” she said. “The ship is armed with missiles and nukes.”

  “You want to nuke the Metal Islands?” Les stammered.

  “Of course not. But I want to bring all the firepower to this fight that we can. We have four hundred and seventy-two passengers aboard Deliverance and the Hive. We can’t put them all at risk.”

  Michael felt Katrina studying him in the shadows.

  “We’re down to a handful of Hell Divers,” she said, “and from the sounds of it, there are a lot of Cazadores. I can’t risk the lives on the Hive and Deliverance for a chance at taking this as our future home, and we can’t destroy this future home, either.”

  Michael knew he wasn’t in any condition to fight, but there had to be a way to fight the Cazadores and save X, Magnolia, and Miles.

  “We have to try something,” he said. “We’re Hell Divers. We don’t give up. We do what it takes, even when the mission looks impossible. That’s what has kept us alive in the sky all these years.”

  Katrina nodded. “I’ve got a plan, Commander. I just need time to allow it to work.”

  * * * * *

  X was running out of time and gasoline. The gauge on the WaveRunner said the damn thing was almost out of fuel. He steered toward the flaming wreckage of the fishing boat he had stopped with a grenade.

  Pulling up alongside, he swung up onto the deck and searched for gasoline. Two rusted canisters sat inside a crate with an open lid. He grabbed them both and returned to the WaveRunner.

  “You got any updates on Mags and Miles?” X asked over the channel to Timothy. The AI was still within range and monitoring the beacons for Magnolia and Miles.

  “They’re still on the move, sir.”

  “Are they still alive?” X was afraid to ask, but he had to know.

  “Yes, according to their life-support readings.”

  X unscrewed the plastic top from the tank on the WaveRunner, looking up as he worked. The Sea Wolf drifted in the distance, the sails both burned away and the mast broken at the top. The last wisps of gray smoke drifted away from the disabled craft.

  “What about Katrina? Have you been able to reach her again?”

  “I heard from Commander Everhart and Captain DaVita, sir. They know our coordinates and situation, but I’ve just lost contact with them due to the electrical storms.”

  X looked over his shoulder to the oil rigs on the horizon. Several boats were inching across the water now.

  Reinforcements.

  It was about time.

  X carefully poured the gasoline into the WaveRunner’s tank. The scent filled his nostrils. He hadn’t smelled it in a very long time. Gasoline was rare, and most of the time it didn’t work. But somehow, the Cazadores had a supply of good-quality fuel, which meant they must have a way of refining it that he couldn’t see. How they had gotten here, and where they came from, was another question.

  Was it possible there were more rigs out there, or other places where these people made up their home?

  X pushed aside the questions, screwed the cap back on, and strapped the canisters on board. Straddling the WaveRunner, he fired the engine back up and gave the throttle a twist. It shot forward toward the boats sailing for the Sea Wolf.

  “Let’s see what you can do,” X whispered.

  He gunned the engine, and the little craft went bobbing over the swells. The weapons he had salvaged from the Sea Wolf slapped his body with each jolt. Over his back, he carried a bolt-action rifle. A blaster and two handguns were holstered on his duty belt, and a submachine gun hung from a strap over his chest. The ancient gun had some rust, but he had tested it, and it worked fine. The three extended magazines held fifty rounds each.

  Two grenades hung from his vest, and he had a brick of plastic explosive in the pack tethered to the back of the WaveRunner. It wasn’t enough to take on an army, but it could inflict some major damage.

  It was time to make these fuckers pay.

  He twisted the throttle again, his hand aching from the barbed-wire cuts. Blood oozed onto the handlebar.

  The boats ahead were all packed full of Cazadores—at least a dozen men, maybe some women, though it was hard to tell from this distance. He could see three vessels, all of them under sail. They weren’t wasting gas now that the threat had been neutralized—as far as they knew …

  Motion flashed in his peripheral vision. He quickly turned to his left, following gray shadows that moved fast just under the surface of the water. He felt a jolt of fear when he realized they were sea creatures, mere feet away from his exposed legs.

  Keeping his right hand on the throttle, he raised the submachine gun in his left. Then one of the beasts leaped, breaching the surface in a long, smooth arc. The light-gray hide and dorsal fin sparkled in the sunlight before it hit the water with barely a splash.

  This wasn’t some sea monster at all. It was a majestic creature that he had never thought he would see. And it wasn’t alone. A large group of dolphins swam alongside the WaveRunner. Leaping and poking their heads through the water, they seemed to be studying him. Their squeaking chatter seemed a mix of laughter and conversation as more of the beautiful creatures broke the surface.

  He lowered the gun and kept his course at the approaching boats. They were narrowing the distance now, and he could see several men on the decks, working the sails.

  The dolphins suddenly veered away and disappeared beneath the waves. Either they had decided he was an enemy, or they were leery of the approaching Cazadores. The bastards probably ate these beautiful mammals, just as they were going to eat Miles.

  But not if I get to you first …

  X worked on calming his breath as the boats neared. They were only a quarter-mile out now, and he slowed the WaveRunner to a crawl.

  “What’s their status, Pepper?” X asked.

  “Magnolia and Miles are still on the move, sir.”

  “But they’re alive?”

  “It appears so, sir.”

  Dozens of faces on the boats focused on him as he sat waiting, waving for them to slow. Pretending to scratch his chin, he pushed the comm bead away from his lips and tucked it under his collar.

  Two of the sailboats slowed, while the third started its engine and motored toward the Sea Wolf. The men on deck didn’t bother looking in his direction.

  X repeated in his mind the words that Timothy had told him to use.

  Yo maté al intruso. Yo maté al intruso.

  Raising his bandaged hand, X shouted the words that meant he had killed the trespasser, using exactly the inflection Timothy had taught him.

  The men in the two sailboats wore sun-faded brown fatigues and rusted armor plates over their chests. Only a few of them had the breathing apparatus he had seen them wear back in Florida, and none had heavy armor.

  A bald
man with tattoos on his sweaty scalp waved a rust-covered pistol in one gloved hand while gesturing to X with the other.

  “Vámonos,” he said.

  X wasn’t sure what that meant, but the body language suggested it was time to move. His disguise had worked, apparently, since the men hadn’t riddled his body with bullets or impaled him on spears.

  It had been a brazen plan, stripping the dead Cazador on the Sea Wolf of his clothes and then swimming to the WaveRunner with his gear and weapons, but so far, it was working. They had no idea he wasn’t one of them.

  The only downside was being unable to track Miles and Magnolia with his HUD. With his armor and helmet strapped behind him on the WaveRunner, he must use Timothy as his eyes.

  The Cazadores would never find the body X had dumped into the ocean, but it was only a matter of time before they caught on.

  The bald man yelled at X again, gesturing for him to get off the WaveRunner. X raised his own hand, hoping to calm the soldier.

  “Espera un minuto,” another man said to the first. He stepped up beside the other man and ran a hand over his thinning hair.

  “Un momento,” the man said to X.

  X understood this much, and his heart kicked when two other men, who had been working the sails, walked over to look at him. The WaveRunner had drifted right between the two boats.

  More men moved over to the side of the other vessel to look at him.

  He was surrounded.

  The man who had first hailed him pulled out a long machete from a leather sheath at his side. He raised a pair of goggles to have a better look at X.

  “¿Ricardo?” he asked.

  It was a question, and apparently not a rhetorical one. X was out of time—the ruse had played out.

  “¿Ricardo?” the man persisted.

  He received his answer a moment later, when X raised the submachine gun in his left hand while unholstering his blaster with the other.

  Raking the submachine gun over the deck on his left, he fired a flare from the blaster at the gas canisters sitting on the deck of the boat to his right. He pulled the trigger a second time, discharging a shotgun round at a man with a speargun on the second boat, blowing a sizable divot off the top of his skull.