The boat continued between the stilts of the third rig, which blocked all else from view. The Cazador soldier rattled his speargun across the bars to get her attention. He leered at Magnolia, his eyes on her chest.
“Eres muy caliente,” he said.
“Fuck you,” she said, and gave a flick of her chin—a gesture that transcended the language barrier, a subtle way to tell him to screw off. This just made his smile even wider. He snapped his fingers at the driver of the boat, yelling “¡Caliente!” and then panting like a dog.
Miles let out a low whine.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
But it wasn’t okay. This was supposed to be heaven, not hell.
She would have preferred to face Sirens in Hades than these inbred, brutish cannibals.
“¡Rápido!” yelled one of the Cazadores.
The pilot pushed down on the control stick, and the boat surged ahead, picking up speed and creating a sizable wake behind them. She turned to watch the Cazadores on the oil rigs. A girl on one of the decks raised a hand and waved at Magnolia. The mother slapped her hand.
A memory surfaced in Magnolia’s mind, of her own mother doing the same thing many years ago. That was the worst part about her memories from that age: she remembered only the bad ones—at least about her parents.
Because there were no good ones.
She sighed and turned back to stern. In the distance, dozens of rigs rose above the water, shimmering in the sun.
This wasn’t just a city of islands—it was a small state.
There had to be hundreds of people living here, perhaps even thousands.
How could the Hive and Deliverance fight that many? They were down to just under five hundred people, and most weren’t fighters. Hell, most of them weren’t even well.
There was another option, of course.
If you can’t fight them, join them.
Maybe she should try to make peace. Negotiate the fate of her people with whoever was in charge here. Maybe there was a way to live in harmony.
Another memory surfaced in her mind: the day that el Pulpo had skewered Rodger like a bug.
No. There was no negotiating with these people.
The man with the speargun yelled at her, but she ignored him, stroking Miles softly behind the ears. She had to stay strong for when the end came.
The boat continued toward the next rig, a two-story structure with an open roof. Instead of slowing as before, the driver picked up speed and swung around the platforms, giving Magnolia a view of what the Cazadores were storing inside their warehouse.
Shriveled drapes hung from hooks in the open floors. But no, not drapes at all. They were hundreds of fish and other animals, filleted and drying in the sun that streamed in through the open roof.
Magnolia squeezed Miles tight when she saw the light-gray hide of a sea creature she had always dreamed of seeing since first saw them in a book as a child. Two Cazador workers used a hatchet to cleave away hunks from the recently caught dolphin.
Blood ran down the drying flesh and added to that on the deck.
“No,” she choked.
How could these people kill such a splendid animal, among the smartest on the planet? A tear caressed her cheek.
She looked away from the slaughterhouse to watch a ship carving through the water to the west, away from the dark horizon where the storms still reigned. Containers were packed three deep on the deck. The ship must be returning from a supply run to the mainland.
As they drew closer, Magnolia could see on the deck cages like her own. Animals of some sort were moving inside them.
Over the cough of the engine rose the electronic wails that had haunted her sleep since her first dive.
Not animals. Sirens.
She hugged Miles at the ghastly sight that further confirmed there was no making peace with these people. The Cazadores didn’t just eat humans—they ate dolphins, and captured Sirens to use for God only knew what.
She couldn’t imagine the civilized people on the Hive and Deliverance ever coexisting with such horrid people. But when Hell Divers did make it here and went to war with the Cazadores, they would try to save everyone who was willing to join the civilized society they had established in the skies.
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.”