Michael often had that same stoic look. He had taken after his father in other ways, too.
But the younger Everhart wasn’t here in this dream. Only dead Hell Divers joined Aaron on the platform. Will, Rodney, Sam, Pipe, and a dozen other men and women who had made the ultimate sacrifice flanked Aaron. Former diver Captain Katrina DaVita stepped onto the platform with another old soul. Captain Maria Ash glanced down at X.
Only one non-sky person stood with his old friends. Nick “Rhino” Baker had his thick arms folded over his chest. Blood wept from the gashes and holes in his body. Raising an arm with an arrow stuck through it, he pointed to another ghost, behind X.
The Cazador warriors had parted to make way for el Pulpo. The dead king wasn’t alone, but the muscular younger man walking by his side wasn’t translucent. A horn crested a scratched metal helmet, and bloody strips of skin hung like tentacles from his head.
Horn, the bastard son of el Pulpo and heir to the throne, twirled two axes through the air, the blades flinging drops of blood.
The leader of the skinwalkers had indeed come to claim the throne in this dream.
The setting shifted, and X now rowed a small fishing boat. Choppy waves slapped the hull, rocking him gently. He tried to bring in the oars, but his right arm wouldn’t respond. Glancing down, he saw why. Red vines snaked around his muscles.
He startled as something swam alongside the boat and then jumped into the air, releasing a series of chirps. The smooth gray body of a dolphin splashed him with salt spray. Another darted under the waves, and then two more joined the first two. They leaped out of the ocean, crashing back down together. The pod of spinner dolphins circled the boat.
Over the clicking and splashes came the same voices from the sky. He recognized one of them.
Dr. Huff.
X looked up at a light brighter than the sun. He raised his right hand to cover his eyes.
“We have no choice,” Huff said. “We do this now, or he dies.”
X gritted his teeth in pain and looked down again at his arm. The vines tightened, cutting off the circulation.
“If we do this, the Cazadores will challenge him and try to take the throne,” said another voice.
“If we don’t, he’ll die anyway,” replied another.
The bright light intensified, and the view of ocean and dolphins vanished. The dreamscapes darkened, leaving X in a foggy limbo where he was only half aware.
He couldn’t feel much, but he knew that something terrible was happening to his body.
Sometime later, he awoke in a room that reeked of chemicals. He forced one eye open to a bright space with gray bulkheads. Definitely not his room at the capitol tower.
He was lying on a table, unable to move, paralyzed to the point that he felt only fear. Through his blurred vision, he could see the shapes of several people huddled over him. They seemed to be wearing white masks.
“I think he’s awake,” someone said.
“How is that possible?” replied another.
X tried to speak, but no words came. Something covered his mouth and nose.
A machine beeped, drawing his attention. Just when he saw the IV, one of the medical staff stuck a needle in his left arm. He didn’t feel the prick, but a warm sensation washed over him.
He was back aboard Elysium, and there was Horn, swinging an axe at him.
The blade came down on his upper right arm with such force, it nearly severed the limb.
X tried to scream, but nothing came.
“You almost got it!” said a distant voice.
X lifted his gaze from Horn back to Aaron. His old best friend nodded at him, and the dreamscape went dark.
Memories drifted through his mind, all of them taking the shape of dreams. In one, X journeyed through the wastes with Miles. In another, he sat in the Wingman with Marv and downed as much shine as he could without falling off the stool.
The next, he was sitting by his wife’s side while her body wasted away from the cancer. The next, he was with the only other woman he ever loved. Katrina and X were alone in the launch bay, their sweaty bodies wrapped in darkness. Finally, he recalled the dive to Hades where he lost Aaron and all of Team Raptor.
These were the life events that made X who he was—a good but flawed man, who had made many mistakes but always seemed to survive while other, better men and women perished.
More memories rushed through his mind, and he wondered whether this was what it felt like to die.
But as in so many other situations that should have killed him, X didn’t die. He awoke to the sound of beeping, back in the same bright room.
Several people stood at his bedside, checking monitors and watching him. Groggy and numb, he couldn’t move and could hardly see.
He knew that these people were nurses and doctors, and this was a medical ward. But why…?
Then he saw the bandaged stump.
“No,” he mumbled.
One of the masked onlookers reached out to him.
“Xavier, it’s okay,” the voice said. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Stay calm, my king,” said another.
X squirmed, remembering the nightmare battle with Horn. It hadn’t all been a dream after all.
But how had he…?
He managed to move and saw the bloody bone saw on a stainless steel table across the room. Then he saw Dr. Huff, washing his hands in a sink.
The son of a bitch had cut off his right arm above the elbow, leaving him with nothing but a stump and ending the life he had known.
“No,” he groaned, his voice growing louder. “You took my fucking arm!”
Dr. Huff turned from the sink.
“Sir, you need to stay still,” said a female nurse.
X finally managed to raise the stump, staring at it in shock.
There was no coming back from this. The Cazadores would never follow him now. He was a one-armed king who had lost his knife hand and could no longer protect his people.
He wouldn’t be able to swing a sword, fire a gun, swim, or even write his name as he used to. He would have to learn how to do everything over again, like a damn child.
“You’re going to be okay,” said the nurse. She leaned down and used a rag to wipe the sweat from his brow.
“No, I’m not,” X growled. “Do you know what you’ve done, Doc?”
Huff walked over. “I saved your life,” he said.
“The infection had spread,” said the nurse. “We had to do it.”
X kept his gaze on the doctor.
“You would have died if we didn’t take your arm, King Xavier,” Huff said.
The old mental anguish assailed him, just as it had back in the days when he spent his free time in the Wingman before and after dives. There was only one cure for this agony.
“Shine,” he mumbled.
Red sparks burst before his vision, and he felt a sharp pain where his arm had been.
He squirmed again, bumping the nurse who stood by his side. She moved, and X saw his severed arm resting on a blood-soaked towel.
Huff came in with another needle to put him back to sleep, but X grabbed the doctor with his remaining hand.
“No more needles, Doc,” he growled. “Give me some fucking shine.”
“Can we see him?” Magnolia asked.
Her heart thumped at the news that X was in surgery. No one knew exactly what was happening behind those doors, but it must be dire. Much worse than anyone from Discovery had anticipated.
Even Captain Mitchells seemed caught off guard.
She waited in a dark passage outside the medical ward with Les and all the Hell Divers, even the greenhorns. Militia soldiers had gathered to stand sentry at both ends of the passage outside the ward.
Miles sat on his haunches outside the door, whining. Ton and Victor flanked the dog, eyes ahead, like statues.