Miles whimpered and followed her as she crawled on all fours toward the cage’s barred doors. Something sharp on the floor stuck her palm, and she pulled it back to find a drip of fresh blood.
Her eyes fell on the human bones strewn across the floor.
Her sense of dread grew. The former occupants of this cage had been eaten, and she and Miles were likely next.
The scent of ripe fruit helped her put thoughts of her fate aside for the moment. She crab-walked over to the bars of her prison.
Stooping down under the barred ceiling, she looked out over the platform. She couldn’t see beyond the canopy of trees, but she could see to the right, and what she saw looked like chaos.
At least fifty boats had taken to the water. Some were sailing toward the burning oil rig while others headed for the castle. The gunfire had paused, but she could hear raised voices in the distance.
She pushed her face up against the bars, desperate to see what was happening on the open water. White wakes crisscrossed the ocean like cobwebs.
The carmine bow of a large vessel caught her eye. The ship with the Siren cargo was heading toward a platform in the distance.
A new chorus of voices rang out, then more gunfire. X was getting close.
Magnolia moved to the other side of the cage, but she couldn’t see any better.
As the clamor of voices and clatter of armor grew louder, she looked for something to protect herself with. She picked up a jagged long bone etched with teeth marks.
Miles growled to her left. She looked but could see only the top of the other cage, right of the throne. There was movement inside, and she remembered the body she had glimpsed earlier.
The guard near the door didn’t seem interested in what she was doing.
The shouts and clatter seemed to be coming from several directions. She looked back to the edge of the platform, where cable spooled onto the wheel handle, raising a cage probably filled with Cazadores from the docks below.
She concealed the bone under the sleeve of her tattered shirt, ready to plunge it into el Pulpo’s other eye if she got the chance. Miles barked, but when she turned, he was still staring to her left, toward the other prisoner’s cage.
From a battered, bearded face, large brown eyes blinked at her.
“Mags… is that you?” the man said.
“¡Silencio!” the guard shouted.
The prisoner looked submissively to the soldier.
“Lo siento, lo siento,” he said, his voice quavering.
She knew this voice.
“Rodge… Rodger Dodger?” she stammered. “It can’t be.”
The resurrected corpse stood in his cage, exposing the raised scar that snaked across his upper torso. Whoever had stitched him up didn’t have an eye for aesthetics.
The guard left his post, crossing the platform to meet the cable-operated lift.
“You’re dead,” Magnolia said once they were alone. “I saw it happen…”
Rodger’s eyes roved back and forth as he gripped the bars. “You left me, Mags. You and X left me on that ship.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You died in my arms.”
His big brown eyes seemed to narrow as he tilted his head, looking like a puzzled animal. “Did you finally come back for me?”
The guard banged the butt of his spear against the floor, but Rodger held her gaze.
Magnolia scrutinized him for a moment, looking for the clue that this was just a figment of her overworked imagination. But this was no illusion. The only thing missing was his glasses. His dark beard clung to his sunken cheeks.
“We came to avenge you and find the Metal Islands,” she said, grabbing the bars with the bone still in her hand. “I’m so sorry, Rodge. I didn’t know…”
She looked to her right, where the cage had clattered up to the top again. Several Cazador soldiers wearing full body armor piled out, bearing rifles and spears. Behind them was the king himself.
“Do as they say,” Rodger said softly but urgently. “You have to. They kept me alive for a reason, but I’ve seen them kill others… and eat them. These people aren’t who you think they are, Mags.”
He ducked down before she could respond, and Magnolia backed away from the bars, the bone still up her sleeve. She couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. Rodger Dodger Mintel had returned from the dead. But what did he mean about them not being who she thought? They were pirates, cannibals, freaks. That was obvious.
She felt a flood of emotions whirl through her, not the least of them guilt. It was even worse than the guilt she felt for sending Katrina the coordinates for Red Sphere, which likely got Hell Divers killed. She had left Rodger to these monsters—when he was still alive.
But how…? All she knew was that she had been given a second chance to help him. Bending down, she eased the bone back onto the pile. She would heed Rodger’s counsel and bide her time, even if it meant pain and suffering, until X or the other Hell Divers came to rescue them.
Boots clanked on the metal platform, and she turned to look at el Pulpo, his guards, and the robed servants. The king had removed his helmet, and his single eye roved toward her.
But the grin was gone, his scarred face a mask of anger. Looking away, he yelled orders to his soldiers, who took up positions at the edge of the gardens, spears out.
El Pulpo stalked up the steps and sat on his throne, growling to himself. Imulah folded his arms across his chest, his hands vanishing inside the rough brown robe. He avoided Magnolia’s gaze, but the king looked her way a second time.
He said something in Spanish, and pointed at Rodger as Imulah translated.
“Tonight, we feast on the flesh of gods. Tonight, we dine on the flesh of the sky people—starting with that one. He is ripe.”
X had no idea whether Timothy would be able to get his transmission through to Michael, but it was out of his hands now.
His mission was to find and save Magnolia and Miles.
He wasn’t sure what he would do after that—improvise, as usual, he supposed.
For now, his luck was holding as he homed in on their location. The Cazador soldiers still hadn’t made him, but it was only a matter of time before he must engage them.
The piers at the bottom of the castle ahead were thronged with warriors. This wasn’t just a castle; it was a fortress. And he had no idea how to find his friends here. One thing was certain: he wouldn’t be using the piers.
And he no longer had Timothy’s help, either. The AI had gone offline twenty minutes ago after telling X that the Cazadores were inside the command center. For all X knew, Timothy was nothing but a memory.
The boats ahead picked up speed toward the dock. X felt the tendrils of panic, a feeling he hardly recognized. He had seconds to figure out what to do.
One of the boats veered sharply. X followed and saw a door opening under the structure right of the docks. Moored boats bobbed gently in the slow current running under the metal behemoth.
He gunned the WaveRunner’s engine to catch up. Of the four men in the back of the boat, only one looked in his direction, but he seemed to pay scant attention and went back to looking ahead at the widening doors.
X looked subtly left, to the docks, thick with soldiers and the men in robes.
He looked casually at the marine garage. If he could get inside unnoticed, maybe he could fight his way to Magnolia and Miles. A long shot, but it was a plan. As long as he was breathing, he would keep fighting.
The boat ahead slowed and drifted into the gloom of the enclosed garage. X eased off the throttle and followed.
Now the men in the boat were looking at him. Three of them talked to one another in low voices. He had hoped to buy a little more time.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness as he steered the WaveRunner inside. The hangar held at least thirty boats, most of them hard-used and covered in rust and grime. Steel columns wider than some of the boats supported the structure above.