When he was at a safe distance, he slowed the WaveRunner and unslung the bolt-action rifle. Bringing the scope to his eye, he saw several Cazadores burning on the deck, flailing and crashing into one another. Others had been blown into the water or jumped overboard, where they struggled to keep their heads above the surface.
“Time’s up,” X said, lining up the sights.
One by one, he fired rounds into their skulls, turning the water around them red. When he had finished with the soldiers in the water, he searched for the third boat, which was now circling the Sea Wolf.
“You’re about to have company, sir,” Pepper said.
X pushed the mike bead back to his mouth but didn’t respond. He sat on the WaveRunner as it bobbed on the water. Using his arm as a crutch, he tried his best to steady the carbine.
The sights danced over the head behind the wheel. Two more men stood next to the pilot, and several more were on the deck.
X pulled the trigger, but the first bullet hit the windshield, spiderwebbing it. The pilot ducked before X could get off another round.
“Shit,” he growled. He swung the barrel to one of the soldiers on deck and hit him in the side, dropping him overboard. Return fire flashed from the bow, lancing into the water around the WaveRunner.
X lowered the rifle, grabbed the handlebar, and steered away. The engine roared, kicking up a strong wake behind the vessel. A round whizzed past his head, hitting the water ahead with a small splash. He turned sharp right, heading back for the billowing smoke of the burning boats.
The vessel pursuing him turned to intercept. With one hand on the throttle, he switched out magazines in the submachine gun. It took a couple of tries, but he finally managed to slap in the fresh mag without dropping either one into the sea.
He steadied the craft and chambered a round. Then, letting the weapon hang from the sling over his chest, he used both hands to continue turning the small craft.
A bullet perforated the back of the WaveRunner, and another cut his boot, grazing his foot. The jolt of pain erased any thrill he was getting from the hunt.
Just a flesh wound.
Instead of turning away from the gunfire, X cut hard to the left and into the spray. The rounds kicked up water by his side as he gunned the WaveRunner in a long, wide arc toward the smoke drifting from the wreckage.
The pursuing Cazadores were about to pass the burning boats. He continued turning the WaveRunner, thumping over the wavelets as he picked up speed.
Muzzle flashes flickered from the starboard gunwale of the boat. X kept low, hunching down and hugging the frame of the WaveRunner.
A message from Timothy hissed in his ear, but he couldn’t hear it over the growl of the engine and crash of water on the bow.
X squeezed the throttle lever all the way and plunged into the wall of drifting smoke. When he was enveloped, he hit the reverse throttle, stopping the craft abruptly. Then he jumped into the water.
Kicking beneath the waves, he swam as far away as he could from the WaveRunner. He surfaced about seventy-five feet away, poking his head through the surface. It was hard to see through the narrow gap of clear air between the smoke and the ocean surface, but he managed to spot the boat searching for him. The pilot had slowed, and all aboard were peering over the sides.
Voices called out in Spanish.
X ducked back under the water and swam for a full minute to come up behind the boat. Taking the other grenade from his vest, he pulled the pin, counted off a couple of seconds, and dropped it onto the deck.
“Fuck you, assholes!” he yelled. Then he surface-dived and swam away.
He could hear the muffled explosion overhead and saw bits of shrapnel and debris hit the water around him. When he surfaced again, several bodies were in the reddening water. One of the Cazadores, a female with a Mohawk, was treading water with a hand on her gut.
X caught her gaze but swam away, trying not to inhale the smoke still drifting over the surface. He coughed several times despite his efforts.
Pained voices came from all directions.
He couldn’t understand them, but he knew a plea for help when he heard it.
Mercy wasn’t his habit with mortal enemies, especially cannibals. He would show them the same mercy they planned to show to Magnolia or Miles.
X came upon a dead Cazador lying facedown across a large section of wooden hull. He grabbed a baseball cap and goggles off the head and kept swimming to the WaveRunner. He didn’t want to be around when the sharks started homing in on the slaughter.
Climbing aboard the WaveRunner, he paused just a moment to look at the image of a jumping fish above the bill of the cap. Then he snugged it down on his head, pulled the goggles down over his eyes, and sped away, leaving any live Cazadores to drown in the smoke-shrouded water.
This time, his heart remained calm when he saw motion in the water. The dolphins had returned, and they didn’t seem the least bit frightened.
“Don’t worry, I’m a friend,” X said.
They swam alongside the WaveRunner, studying him with their dark gray eyes, as if to say,Are you going to save us from those monsters?
X grunted and twisted the throttle. “I’m going to kill all the monsters.”
TWENTY-ONE
Les stood at the helm of the USS Zion, watching a magnificent storm. Lightning cleaved the horizon, streaking through the black like a giant fiery octopus. The residual blue glow remained for several seconds, and the rumble of thunder sounded both distant and close.
This was the same view his eyes were accustomed to seeing for as long as he could remember. Most of the time, he ignored the sights and sounds of the storms, as someone might have done two and a half centuries ago when strolling through a park or down a city sidewalk.
The storms were part of life. He had never thought he would know any surroundings other than black sky or blasted surface. Certainly, he had never thought he would see the sun. But in a single month, all that had changed.
He climbed the ladder to what Captain DaVita had called the “island,” where she stood watching Jaideep and Trey work. They were outside on a mezzanine, using tackle and slings to bring the remains of a sailor down.
“Still nothing from the Hive or Deliverance,” he reported.
“Keep trying,” the captain said.
Everyone was on edge, and having something to do was a good thing. He returned to the bridge and sat back down on the leather chair, which creaked under the weight of his body and armor. Picking up the handset, he scanned to the channel used for communicating with the Hive, and tried to reach Samson.
Nothing.
Next, he tried Deliverance.
Still nothing.
Finally, he tried the Sea Wolf. Most of the crew didn’t trust the AI, but Timothy was the nearest thing they had to a connection with Magnolia, X, and Miles.
Static from the radio station filled the bridge with the hollow sound of loneliness.
Les shook his head, muttering. “Come on…”
He went through the channels a second and a third time. After an hour of trying to make radio contact, he returned to the ladder, where Trey and Jaideep were carrying the skeletal remains of the dead sailor onto the landing.
“Careful,” Katrina said behind them.
They brought what was left of the body down to the bridge and set it on a cleared table.
“What on earth would he be doing up there?” Jaideep asked.
“Hiding from something,” Katrina said.