Wolves

EIGHT

The clank of lockers and rustling of gear filled the launch bay on the Hive. Les nodded at the two guards standing sentry outside. Both were in their early fifties—on the Hive, a ripe old age.

“Good luck, Giraffe,” one of them said.

“Looks like you’re going to need it with them new young divers,” said the other. “I’d volunteer, but I don’t move as fast as I used to.”

When Les had gone to Sergeant Sloan, he requested older militia soldiers like these guys—the best she had, just as Katrina had instructed. His goal was to fill some of the launch tubes with people who could fight but who had already lived a good deal of their lives.

But once again the volunteers and recruits were mostly young people.

The old guys were standing guard outside the launch bay.

Les sighed and stepped inside the room where the new recruits and volunteers were suiting up. They’d been given some older gear that hadn’t been used in ages but was still in good condition.

Les was pretty sure it had once belonged to Michael, Layla, Erin, and Andrew, but they’d upgraded their armor and suits over the years.

Sandy gave him a little wave, which he returned with the nod of his head. Jed stood stock-still next to her, half suited up, looking at something in his hand. The young diver’s mouth was hanging partway open as he stared at a small sliver of paper. His lips moved, and then he stowed the object in his pocket and resumed the task of getting into his gear with his fellow recruits.

Les crossed the room, his mind racing. He still hadn’t seen the data Magnolia uploaded and sent them, and he was anxious to get back to Deliverance for a full report, but his first job was to start the new Hell Divers training with Erin.

He joined her at the wind tunnels, where she cupped her helmet under one arm, looking out over the youthful faces in front of them as they suited up and put on their armor.

“Finish armoring up,” Erin said. “We’ll begin in a few minutes.”

Trey nodded at Les from the front of the crowd. He had a freshly shaved head and about the same complement of pimples as the other teenagers in the group. Seeing his son standing there, shoulders straight, chin up, and talking with Jed Snow about their upcoming first dive gave Les a flash of anxiety.

First dive…

He was still catching up to the reality that his son had volunteered. But what could he do besides help train him to survive?

Les stood at a distance, watching and listening to their conversation.

“Why did you guys join up?” Jed asked.

Vish and Jaideep, still finishing up with their gear, exchanged a glance.

“There aren’t many job opportunities left,” Jaideep said.

Vish laughed. “More like no one would hire us.”

“I know the feeling,” Trey said.

Sandy and Jed smiled uneasily.

“How about you?” Vish asked.

Jed scratched at the stubble on his chin, and then pointed at the Raptor logo hanging from the bulkhead. “Commander Everhart and Layla Brower are my inspiration. They taught me what kindness and courage are, and now that I’ve recovered from the cough, it’s time to join them as a Hell Diver.”

“I’m here because I want to see the surface and help my family,” Sandy said. She batted long eyelashes and her light blue eyes met Jed’s, whose lips curled up slightly at the edges. Les could see a spark of passion there. Perhaps there was another reason Jed had volunteered. It wouldn’t be the first time a person volunteered to help protect those they cared about.

Les moved over to the other new recruits who were still working on their gear. Edgar Cervantes and his cousin, Ramon Ochoa, nodded at Les. Both men had fashionably long dreadlocks and close-trimmed dark beards. As members of the militia, they had spent the past few years working the night shift on the lower decks, where they saw suffering and despair daily. Their toughened sensibilities and dedication to the ship would speed their transition into the role of diving.

At least, this was what Les hoped would happen.

To the right stood Eevi Corey, a woman with bright blond curly hair and blue eyes. Her husband, Alexander, had matching eyes and long wavy brown hair. They were a good-looking pair, but had suffered greatly with the loss of their daughter to cancer several years earlier.

Eevi was an investigator with the militia, and Alexander was an enforcer. Sloan had described them as smart, willing, and aggressive, with little to lose besides each other. The couple, along with Edgar and his cousin, would be a great addition to the Hell Divers.

“Thank you for being here,” Les said to the four new militia recruits.

Erin put a hand on the glass of a wind tunnel, leaning on it and looking relaxed. “All right, listen up, everyone. We’re going to jump right into training today, and I’ll be first in the wind tunnels. Probably don’t have to tell you this, but these tunnels will be the closest simulation you’ll get to diving.”

She put her helmet on, flattening her Mohawk. Her voice broke over the speakers as she opened the door and stepped into the wind tunnel.

Les fired up the propeller, and the air draft pushed Erin up. She spread her arms and legs and let the wind take her, suit rippling in the current.

“Pretty cool,” Trey said. “Looks kinda easy.”

She hovered in the constant updraft for several seconds, hardly moving at all.

“Okay, this is what we call stable position,” she said. “This is how you will dive most of the time, unless you encounter a storm.”

Les took over. “Thanks to Commander Everhart and the other brave divers who found Deliverance, we won’t be making any risky jumps in the near future. For the first time in my entire life, we have the necessary fuel cells, supplies, and food to sustain our current population.”

Erin continued in the same stable position, her body relaxed, legs and arms bent, helmet slightly downward.

“When I first started diving, about five years ago on Team Wolf, I was always instructed to get through a storm as fast as possible,” Erin said over the speaker system.

“Commander Xavier Rodriguez taught his divers to do this by means of a full-on bullet dive. The survival rate of Team Raptor was higher than that of most other teams, partly for this reason.”

Erin gracefully maneuvered so her feet and helmet were straight as an arrow, carving through the wind like a missile toward the ground. The air current flowed like water around her.

“You can reach far greater speeds in a bullet dive, or what I call a suicide dive,” Les said after speeding up the propeller to compensate for Erin’s increased rate of fall in the nosedive. “If you’re ever in a situation where there’s lightning, this is the best way to survive.”

“Or die,” Jaideep said. “I mean, seriously, you call it a suicide dive?”

“Yes,” Les said.

Sandy watched Erin with an intense expression on her face but said nothing.

“Your electronics won’t work during an electrical storm,” Erin said. “You will be effectively blind and deaf for a period of minutes before you break through the cloud cover.”

“Blind and deaf?” Alexander asked, brushing a stand of hair over an ear.

“Yes,” Les continued. “The only thing you’ll be able to see is the blue glow from the other divers’ battery units, and flares if they are authorized. And the only thing you’ll hear is the wind.” He studied the recruits and volunteers for their reactions as Erin continued her simulated headfirst dive.

The subtle signs told Les that everyone was terrified, even Trey. As if in response to Les’ thought, the boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow.

Jaideep massaged the bottom of his gold hoop earring. Alexander and Eevi took a step closer together, arms touching. Sandy twisted a lock of hair, and Jed kept scratching his right elbow.

Erin did another backflip in the wind tunnel, earning a hoot and holler from Jaideep, but his brother didn’t look amused.

“We’re really doing this?” Vish asked.

Jaideep grinned. “I am, but you probably aren’t going to last very long.”

Erin, back in a stable falling position with her arms and legs out, directed her helmet at the boys.

“Pay attention,” she said. “The move I just did is how you go from a suicide dive back into stable position.”

They watched for several more minutes until Erin instructed Les to shut off the tunnel. He pushed the kill button, and as the propeller slowed, she sank back to the floor, her boots clanking on the metal surface.

She took off her helmet. “Who’s next?” she asked, eyes sweeping the crowd.

Les looked back over the new divers. As he had expected, his son raised his hand.

“I’ll give it a shot,” the boy said eagerly.

“I bet they found habitable land,” Ada said with a wide grin.

“Are we taking bets now?” Katrina asked. She sat at the head of the table, where most of the crew were still discussing whatever might be in the data that Bronson continued to download from his station.

There was excitement in the air, but Michael didn’t share in the thrill. He was worried about the fate of the Sea Wolf. It was just so painful to think that Timothy would abandon the divers on the island after everything he had done for them back at the Hilltop Bastion and again in Florida.

Michael pulled the herb stick out of his mouth and shook his head. Like most of the officers and passengers, Ada had no real idea what was twenty thousand feet below the airships.

“Don’t hold your breath,” he said. “Mags would have told us if they found the Metal Islands or anywhere else that looked habitable. Sounds like this is more historical data.”

Ensign Dave Connor nodded. “I agree with Commander Everhart. My guess is, they found some new type of mutant.”

“We already know that,” Layla said as she wrote in her journal. “I’m already documenting it. They described vultures and hogs. Never seen either of those creatures in the wastes back in North America, have we?”

“No one that survived to tell the tale of anything like that, I don’t think,” Michael said.

“I still think they found a place we can call home,” Ada said. “At least I can hope, right?”

Michael could see why Katrina had picked Ada for her crew. She was smart and always upbeat. Not many people on either ship shared her unquenchable optimism.

“What’s your money on?” she asked Bronson.

The elderly officer shrugged his hunched shoulders, not turning from his station. “Another ITC facility. Probably with fuel cells and other stuff. That’s my guess. But I’m just an old man; what do I know?”

Michael couldn’t help grinning. Bronson was more than just the oldest man on the bridge. He was also the wisest, and he reminded Michael of Jason Matthis, the librarian from the Hive, who was still recovering from the beating the militia put on him several months earlier, during the purging of the ship’s archives.

Layla and Michael had visited him a few days ago. He was eager to hear how her job of restoring the archives was going.

The rap of a cane on the metal floor came from the other side of the room. Bronson held up the walking stick. “Five more minutes left on the download.”

“Guess we’re going to see who’s right,” Michael said. He checked on Layla, who continued writing in her journal.

“What’s your best guess?” he asked.

Setting down the pencil, she said, “I don’t really have a guess. I just hope it will help us restore some of the history on the ship. We’ve lost so much.”

A warning sensor beeped from the main console. Michael stood and moved over to check the monitor.

“What is it?” Layla asked.

“Looks like a problem with gas bladder nine on the Hive. It’s losing helium.” He picked up the radio and buzzed Samson.

“Go ahead,” came a disgruntled voice.

“Samson, you see the report on gas bladder nine?” Michael said.

“It’s under control.”

Katrina stepped over to the station and motioned for the radio. Michael handed her the receiver.

“Keep us updated, Samson,” she said. “I want to be able to move at a moment’s notice.”

She hung up the receiver and looked over to Dave. “Ensign, pull up the weather map and report.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Everyone turned to the main monitor, where their location came online. Two blinking green dots on the overlay represented the Hive and Deliverance. Still linked by their aluminum coupling beams, they were currently sailing south of the Florida peninsula.

“Winds out of the northwest at fifteen knots,” Dave said. “I’ve been tracking a storm front of sixty miles. Barometer is holding steady.”

Katrina stroked the sides of her mouth. “Switch to the map showing the Sea Wolf’s last known location.”

A new map came up, with a line curving between Cuba and the Bahamas. They were just west of the Turks and Caicos Islands.

Michael had a feeling he knew exactly what she was doing. He studied the map, looking at the dense red fog over Jamaica and Hispaniola.

“The Metal Islands have to be somewhere to the south,” she said.

Another beep sounded, and everyone on the bridge looked over to Bronson, who was leaning close to his monitor, with his spectacles just inches away.

He looked up from his screen, confirming with a nod that the data was completely downloaded.

“All right,” Katrina said. “I want to take a look at this with Commander Everhart and Timothy Pepper, alone.”

Ada let out a groan, and Layla’s brow furrowed.

“Let’s go see what Magnolia sent us, Commander,” Katrina said.

Michael followed her to the office off the bridge. The AI’s hologram emerged inside the quarters. The dark-skinned image stroked his perfect beard and looked at Michael. Something about his eyes seemed different, as if Timothy already knew what Magnolia had sent them.

Both Miles and X had injuries, but they were still moving fast. They were alive and had accomplished their mission of finding a radio, but none of that would matter if they couldn’t get back to the Sea Wolf.

They took a different route down the mountainside to the beach, and this time X was letting Magnolia lead. She hadn’t complained yet, although he knew she was just itching to tell him they should have kept an open channel to Pepper.

The comm line to the Sea Wolf was still down, and it wasn’t going to be back up until one of them manually turned it on—unless the AI broke X’s order to keep radio silence.

Part of X wanted to prove that the AI had betrayed them, but doing so would mean they were stranded here. No, as much as he hated robots, he didn’t want to be proved right if it meant getting stuck in this muddy hellhole.

He still had Cazadores to kill.

Magnolia sliced through the jungle growth ahead, her curved blade cutting down orange bamboo stalks three times her height. Orange sap sluiced into the dirt, turning it the color of rust.

X hacked at stems leaning into the path she had cleared. The sap dripped on his armor, sticking to his battery unit. He pushed through the giant bamboo forest at a good pace, checking his rear guard every few minutes and listening for hogs.

If any more were out here, he would hear them crashing through the thick growth or see them with his NVGs, which he kept on.

He gripped his machete tighter and flattened his body to move between two more of the barb-sided poles. Several of the tips scratched his back armor.

Lightning hit a tree on the mountainside, and he turned as sparks rained over the jungle. The rain beat the flames to death before they could mature.

Miles waited a few feet ahead. He trailed Magnolia, turning every few minutes to make sure that X was still behind. X had hardly taken his eyes off his friend since rescuing him from the nest.

The distant, melancholy wail of a vulture reminded him they weren’t out of danger yet. But this sound wasn’t the sound of a predator on the hunt. It was the call of a mother or father mourning a child. X had slaughtered the babies, and he would do it again if it saved Miles or Mags.

In just the past hour, she had made up for every screwup and then some.

He owed her an apology for his dismissive behavior over the past few days, and if they managed to get back to the Sea Wolf and get it running, he was going to do just that—after he apologized to Pepper, assuming the AI hadn’t left them out here.

X hacked another bamboo with his machete and slipped through the gap between two more. The barbed stalks scratched his armor again, smearing him with the sap. The amplified speakers picked up the sound of Magnolia cutting down the stalks ahead, and another sound…

Waves. They were getting close.

X moved faster to catch up with Magnolia. She was nearing the end of the thinning foliage. The darkness on the horizon split in half, the ocean finally visible under the stormy sky.

Magnolia stopped outside the bamboo forest, taking a knee and motioning for him to join her. Miles sat on his haunches—a sign the coast was clear.

“Timothy, do you copy?” Magnolia asked over the comm.

There was no response.

“Pepper, this is X, do you copy?” He sheathed the machete and unslung his rifle while listening to the crackle of static.

“Guess he finally listened to one of my orders,” X said.

Magnolia looked over her shoulder with a frown. Behind her, the forest ended on a cliff overlooking the city, beach, and bay to the east.

X spotted the Sea Wolf right away and trained his scope on the vessel. The hull had caught on another shipwreck a quarter mile out into the bay. If Timothy had been trying to escape, he had failed.

“We lucked out,” Magnolia said.

“How do you figure? One of us is going to have to swim out there.”

“True, but at least we still have a ride.”

X looked over the sea cliff. Over a hundred feet separated them from the water below. Miles let out a whimper as if he could sense what was going through his master’s mind.

“Don’t worry, boy,” X said. “You’re not going to swim today.”

Magnolia stood up and moved to get a better view, and X followed her to find a way down to the shore. The radio equipment clanked on her back as she moved, the bag hitting her armor.

“Why don’t you put that down?” X said quietly. “You sound like a bag of cans.”

She did as he suggested and set the bag gently on the ground while X continued looking for a way down. He scanned the entire bluff to the east, all the way to the beach, but there didn’t seem to be any easy access to the water.

He glanced back down at the rocky shore.

The Sea Wolf wasn’t that far, but the prospect of plummeting into the bay—or onto the rocks—made his gut tighten.

“No,” Magnolia said, as if she could read his thoughts.

“You want to go back through there?” X pointed at the bamboo forest and the jungle beyond.

Magnolia shook her head. “Not especially, but I also don’t want you to break your legs—or your neck.”

“Looks pretty deep to me, and it won’t take long to swim to the boat. One of us will have to do it.”

“You do remember that shark, right?”

X looked back out over the choppy waves and cursed. He wanted to scream at the ship and tell Pepper to come back online, but that wouldn’t do any good, and it might well attract more beasts.

It was odd how the tides had turned.

Now X needed the damn robot.

“Hold my rifle and cover me,” he said, giving his weapon to Magnolia. She took it but didn’t seem sold on the plan.

X bent down in front of Miles. He checked the dog’s wounds again. There were several gashes on his suit, but they didn’t look that deep. He would be okay, especially since his genetically modified body healed faster than a human’s.

X was the one who needed medicine. His arm was burning something fierce, and he wasn’t sure whether the sweat on his forehead was from a fever or just from the stuffy air in his helmet.

He patted Miles on the head and walked to the cliff edge, where he shucked off his boots and armor.

“X, this is crazy,” Magnolia said.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Sometimes, you got to do something a little crazy to survive, because sometimes there’s no other option.”

“I thought you wanted me to work on not doing dumb stuff.”

“I do, and for the record, I’m sorry for being such a dick. Thank you for saving my life. I’ll hit you back if I survive this.”

He took a step back and then ran toward the ledge. About two feet away, he leaped into the air and fell toward the black waves.