Now X really wished he were drunk. He cursed under his breath. Things had just gone from terrible to a damn sight worse in a matter of hours, and the sun still wasn’t up yet. Meanwhile, Discovery was off on a mission over three thousand miles away.
“We have to hope your war boats get to that rowboat before Mercury does,” Rhino said.
The breeze rustled through the beard X had grown. He rubbed his cheek, then pulled out his walkie-talkie.
“Sloan, X. Do you copy? Over.”
She answered a moment later. “Copy, X. Go ahead.”
“Have our boats reached that skiff yet?”
“Just got there. They are in the process of moving the two survivors onto our boats, but Mercury also just arrived.”
“Shit,” X said.
“You have to quarantine those men,” Rhino said. “Do you have Spanish-speakers in those crews?”
“Sloan, do we have any Spanish-speaking members of the militia on those boats?” X asked.
“Roger that, sir.”
“Tell them to explain that our team is taking the survivors to treat them for radiation poisoning.”
“Will do, sir,” Sloan replied.
“And what about the fishing crew?” Rhino said. “What if those two sailors told them what happened?”
“Then we’re screwed,” X said. “Either way, I’m planning for the worst.”
He left Rhino standing there and nodded for Miles to follow him.
“King Xavier, what about Ada?” Rhino called out.
X stopped and turned slightly. “What about her?”
“You still haven’t done anything with her.” Rhino’s chest puffed out, reminding him of a vulture calling for its mate. “You can’t let her go without punishment, King Xavier.”
X had anticipated this moment, when his friend and most trusted bodyguard finally lost patience about the former airship officer.
“I promise you this,” Rhino said. “Pretty much anything you do to her will be better than what the Cazadores will do if they find out the truth.”
“True,” X said. He led Miles away from Rhino, needing a break to clear his mind. They walked toward one of the two machine-gun emplacements nestled at the edge of the rooftop.
The canopy of palm trees swayed lazily in the citrus-scented breeze. The smell made his stomach growl. He had skipped dinner last night, and on top of being exhausted, he was so hungry he could eat a mutant whale. But before he ate or rested, he had to make sure they were ready for whatever was coming.
X stopped at the machine-gun nest. It had been built on a platform with bags of rock positioned around the old weapon. Two militia soldiers sat on stools looking over the eastern horizon. They both stood as he approached, and in the candlelight, he recognized a young man and an even younger woman from the lower decks of the Hive.
“Sir,” they said as one.
“Morning,” he said. “How are things looking out there?”
The woman turned a helmet two sizes too big to look out at the water. She then looked back at X and pushed up the visor, revealing a pimply face.
Another kid. Like Felipe and so many others who were fighting for their people.
“Are we going to war again, sir?” she asked.
“I hope not, but if we do, I’ll need you both to hold this position,” he said. “That’s your job: make sure no one gets to this tower.”
“We won’t abandon our post, sir,” said the young man. He held a bolt-action rifle in his hand.
“You good with that?” X asked, reaching out.
The soldier handed it over. “I could shoot a crab off the Hive from here without puncturing the hull,” he said.
X looked through the scope at the decommissioned airship. He could see light through several of the portholes. There was no way in hell the kid could hit a crab from here, but he didn’t argue. Confidence was a good thing. It helped dull the fear.
He handed the rifle back to the soldier. “Stay sharp and watch the waters.”
“For what, sir?” asked the girl. “Is it the machines?”
“Could be the machines, could be humans,” X said. “Just make sure you’re ready.”
He had given the order to prepare for a battle without giving any details on who they would be fighting. Until he knew more about the two survivors from the Lion, he didn’t want to get his people too riled up.
But he did want them ready. If Elysium and Mercury went on the warpath, they would inflict some serious damage on the Hive and the capitol tower before his people could stop them.
It would be the end of the islands, allowing Horn to sail in and claim the throne with little resistance.
All because of Ada.
The radio crackled as X left the two young soldiers. He paused a moment before answering. During all the time spent trekking through the wastes or sailing on the Sea Wolf to the Metal Islands, he had never felt such bad anxiety.
The entire fate of both peoples hinged on two survivors from the Lion.
“This is X, go ahead,” he finally said.
“Sir, we have both castaways and are bringing them back to the islands,” Sloan reported. “Mercury is following our boats but hasn’t tried to wave them down, or anything.”
“Let me know when they get here,” X said. “I’m going to the shit can.”
“Yes, sir. And I always appreciate you sharing such details.”
X had to grin as he led Miles back across the roof and into the forest, where a hammock hung between two trees. It was tempting, but he wasn’t going to sleep, and he wasn’t going to the shit can.
He was sneaking off to pay a visit to Ada.
TWENTY-FOUR
Team Raptor moved through the sewer tunnel for three hours, walking mostly, crawling in some spots. To avoid the storm and the monsters, Michael had decided to keep moving underground.
Leaving Alexander was one of the hardest things he had done on a dive, but it had saved the rest of his team. There was no going back, only forward.
Around midnight, the four divers found an overfill area a mile from their target. Michael ordered the team to stop and sleep in shifts.
It was nearing six in the morning now, and he was wide awake, standing sentry and scanning for hostiles. Most of the bricks lining the bell-shaped room had broken away.
The members of Team Raptor weren’t the first humans to camp here. Broken bottles littered the underground lair. Skeletons of small rodents formed a small pile. Next to them were several buckets filled with a hardened greenish substance.
There was other evidence of the former occupants. Michael picked up the legless head and trunk of a plastic doll, the hair long since gone. There was also a miniature metal fire truck, and a police car without wheels.
He thought of the families that had once tried to survive here. It was surely a bleak and fearful existence. Maybe not so different from the life of lower-deckers on the Hive. But on the airship, they didn’t have to worry about Sirens, bone beasts, and toxic air.
It made him wonder about the living conditions for the people they had come to save. Anyone who had survived this long down here had to be hard as nails.
He hoped they were peaceful, but the threats down here made him wonder whether that was possible. They would surely know how to defend themselves.
Michael walked over and nudged each of the other divers with his boot.
“Wake up,” he whispered. “We need to start moving again.”
The other divers gathered their gear in silence. Everyone was feeling the loss of Alexander, but now was not the time to grieve. They needed to be fully present once they climbed aboveground again.