“That was a quick dinner,” she replied. “How’s Trey?”
Les sighed at his boots. “He wants to be a Hell Diver.”
Katrina stroked her jaw. She remembered the look on her father’s face when she had told him the same thing. He wasn’t happy about it, but he hadn’t lived long after she decided to join the ranks of the divers.
“Trey is a man now and has to make his own way,” she replied.
Les swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, and rubbed his tuft of red hair. “I know.”
“Try not to worry, Lieutenant. The next time we dive, it will be into a green zone, and even if Trey does decide to go through with this, it will be months before he dives. Besides, we have bigger problems right now.” She motioned for Les to follow her over to the central table.
“Listen up, everyone,” she said.
Layla, Dave, Ada, and Bronson all stood to attention at their stations. Even the older ensign, who had a natural slouch, stood ramrod straight.
“As a few of you already know, we have received a distress beacon from Commander Rodriguez and Miss Katib. The last ping we got from their distress beacon was just west of the Turks and Caicos Islands before it went offline. For now, only a few of us, including Commander Everhart, are privy to this information, and for now I want to keep it that way.”
“Should we change course, Captain?” Layla asked.
“No, we hold steady where we are. The electrical storms in this area are too dangerous to try mounting a rescue op. X and Magnolia are on their own for now.”
“The Sea Wolf is our best hope of finding a new home for humanity,” Layla said.
Katrina sighed. “I know this, but X and Magnolia can take care of themselves. Right now we need to focus on keeping our ships in the sky…”
Her words trailed off as realization set in. Her predecessor had often used that same line. The thought chilled her.
So this was how it felt to lead the final bastion of civilization. The burden of having so many lives in her hands wasn’t even the worst part of leading—it was the secrets she had uncovered on Deliverance that she still hadn’t told to anyone.
THREE
The island sure didn’t look like a potential home for the human race. X stood in the off-kilter crow’s nest twenty feet above the Sea Wolf, roving his rifle scope across the shoreline and looking for any sign of the Cazadores or Sirens.
The same bleak scene from back on the mainland filled the scope. A cold, dead world the color of rust waited on the other side of a wide bay. Along the base of a mountain, the ruins of a city stood at the far edge of a gray beach. The crumbling structures weren’t blackened from the nuclear fires, but the years had not been kind to them.
It was a place of broken windows, sinking foundations, rotted wood, and cracked roadways, just like every city he had ever seen. The jungle had crept into the heart of the town, covering most of the structures in vines and red foliage.
No, there weren’t any Cazadores here. This wasn’t the Metal Islands that el Pulpo had spoken of back in Florida. This was just another radioactive old-world city, cursed to die in the darkness.
And once again X had no choice but to scavenge the wastes while nursing an injury. Blood crusted around his arm where a suction cup had held him tight enough to draw blood through his skin. And his flesh wasn’t the only part of him injured.
Smoke fingered away from the stern of the Sea Wolf, swirling into the storm clouds above. The vessel had taken severe damage in the storm and the attack. He had blown a three-by-three-foot hole on the port side with the grenade that killed the giant octopus, flaying open the metal deck and splattering the rail with hunks of gore stuck in the barbed wire. Even worse, engine two was destroyed, and battery two was at zero percent charge.
“Pepper, how long will battery one last us?” X asked over the open channel.
“Battery one is currently showing an eighty percent charge, which should last roughly two more weeks before requiring a recharge.”
X twisted for a better view of the deck, examining the damage from above. The beast had done a number on the twin hull, leaving deep rents in the stern and starboard rails. The command center had a broken windshield and a damaged radio.
“Michael better not come for us,” X muttered to himself.
“Come again?” Magnolia said.
“Nothin’.”
X hadn’t meant for her or Timothy to hear his thoughts about Katrina or Michael coming after him out here. He was terrified that the distress beacon Timothy had activated would provoke the captain into sending them help.
I can do this on my own, with Miles’ help and maybe Mags’ if she gets smart about shit.
Grabbing the metal rail, X went back to scanning the island. A few clicks to his wrist monitor brought up a map of their current location. They were in the West Indies, dead north of Hispaniola, which meant he was looking at a part of the Turks and Caicos Island chain.
“Take us in, Mags,” X said over the comm link.
“You sure about that?”
He grumbled. “You need to start trusting me, kid.”
“And you need to stop calling me ‘kid’—although I won’t hold my breath for that day.”
The single working engine purred beneath the deck, and the rudders turned slightly. He felt a little guilty about having yelled at her in the command center, but she had to understand, he didn’t want Deliverance risking their hides for him. This was his decision, his mission.
He wanted el Pulpo’s head on a pike, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found the bastard—and, with any luck, discovered humankind’s future home in the process.
He wedged his boot between the metal ribs of the crow’s nest and trained his rifle scope on the shore as the Sea Wolf began cutting through the shallows. Lightning forked over the mountains, spreading a blue glow across the jagged cliffs and the mutated jungles surviving in near darkness.
This was the third island they had come across in the past few hours, but the first showing any sign of civilization.
X was hoping to find the tools to help repair their radio and fix the Sea Wolf. His vantage point gave him a panoramic view of their surroundings, and he continued to scan the ocean, beach, and city beyond for contacts.
He didn’t need to activate his night-vision goggles to see the island in detail. The sky retained a blue tint from the constant flashes across the mountain chain, casting an eerie glow on the terrain and the surf.
Several large vessels stood aground on the shallow bottom, the waves beating their rusted hulls. On shore, a dozen shipping containers sat in the sand. X recognized the language marking the side.
It was all in Spanish—the language of the Cazadores.
Shadows flickered beneath the clouds. He zoomed in with his scope on what looked like missiles firing from the sky toward the jungles.
At first, he passed them off as some trick of the light. But then he realized, this was no optical illusion.
His heart skipped at the realization—they had to be Sirens.
But when he zoomed in further and followed one of them in his sights, he saw these weren’t the genetically modified humans at all. These were massive birds.
“I got potential hostiles,” X said.
“I see ’em. Do you want me to change course?”
X watched the beasts for several seconds. There were a dozen of them, and several were headed out to sea. From this distance, he wasn’t sure just how large they were, but they were big.
They weren’t just big—they were monsters.
An ethereal wail made him flinch. He ducked down just as one of the creatures swooped overhead from behind, giving him a close-up glimpse.