Hell Divers III_Deliverance Read online

  Desperate, he clutched the burning book against his chest armor and then smothered it against the floor. Smoke puffed out from under his body, filling the compartment. He coughed and turned away, eyes stinging.

  The candle wick burned in a wax puddle a few feet away from the hatch. Blinking, he saw, in the flickering glow, something moving he hadn’t noticed earlier. The hatch was open. The rusty locking mechanism had broken in the crash.

  X forgot about his book, leaving the smoldering pile on the inverted roof. He wasn’t sure how long the airtight seal had been broken, but neither Miles nor he was wearing his full radiation suit and helmet. Given the rad levels in this area, even a few minutes of exposure could make them sick, and he was all out of the rare pills that would protect him and Miles. He could almost feel the gamma rays cooking his insides.

  X scrambled for his helmet and slipped it over his head. He chinned on the NVGs, grabbed his rifle, and crawled over to put out the candle. In the green hue of his optics, he examined the hatch. He tried shutting it several times, but it wouldn’t latch.

  “Shit, shit, SHIT!” X slammed his armored fist against the hatch.

  The screeching of the Sirens filled his ears, and the sound of Miles yelping made his blood boil. Would their journey end here, like this? Were they really going to die in this rusty old-world shit can?

  Fuck that.

  He wasn’t going to die tonight, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the monsters get their claws and teeth on his dog. X had questions to ask the people in the sky, and a score to settle with those who had left him down here for dead.

  He pushed the hatch open and drew his blaster. A squeeze of the trigger sent a flare streaking across the dirt. It exploded, red blossoming over a field of debris. In the ruddy glow, the long shadows of four-legged creatures came down the slope, their spiky backs raised, conical heads down, bounding over the toxic dirt.

  Lightning cracked against the foundation of an ancient building to the left of the Stryker, rattling him for a moment. He holstered the blaster and grabbed the rifle.

  Ducking through the hatch, he brought the weapon up, holding the buttstock right where it hurt worst. Too damned angry to care about the pain, he fired a round at the lead beast, a monster with a wrinkled white hide. The Siren crashed to the ground in a mangled heap of limbs, blood spurting from a chest wound.

  “Stay here, Miles!” X said. He closed the hatch and pivoted toward the hill to see the slope crawling with the creatures. At least a dozen Sirens were skittering down the dark terrain to avenge their fallen comrade.

  Behind X, the electrical storm raged above the crater that had leveled everything within fifty miles. Nets of lightning blasted the rubble.

  It was a toss-up whether the lightning or the beasts would get to him first. If he survived those, he still might get radiation sickness. Miles was genetically modified to handle brief exposure to higher doses, but X still needed to take out the Sirens and get him back into his suit.

  He picked out a Siren scrambling down the slope and fired a round that hit it in its sinewy torso. Losing its footing, it pitchpoled down the hill, somersaulting in a cloud of black dust and ash.

  Three more came leaping over the rusted carcass of an old-world vehicle. He took two of them down with well-aimed shots to their misshapen heads.

  Lightning struck the ground between him and the third beast, sending it galloping for cover. He shot it in the spine before it could retreat.

  Several more of the creatures took to the air in his peripheral vision. He checked the targets still on the ground, counting four. They were fanning out across the bottom of the slope, preparing to make a run across the two hundred feet of rubble that separated X from them.

  Scratching sounded on the hatch behind him, but he didn’t turn. It was Miles, trying to get into the fight.

  X fired three more quick shots at the advancing monsters. They were close enough that he could hear the popping noise as the rounds cut through their leathery hides. Blood painted the mud as the creatures fell one by one.

  And yet the beasts still came, flapping overhead, hurtling down the slope with their black maws open, running across the flat.

  Bringing up his rifle, X fired the final rounds of his last magazine into the sky, scoring hits to the wide wings of a Siren. It cartwheeled to the ground, screeching in its high-pitched alien wail.

  Lightning flashed near the two remaining airborne Sirens, and they swerved away. He slung the rifle over his back and unsheathed his machete. Holding the blade in his left hand, he drew the blaster with his right.

  Four of the Sirens were almost on him. He fired the final shotgun shell into the biggest one as it charged on all fours. The blast took out its left arm, separating it at the elbow.

  The other three charged, screeching with rage. He stared at the eyeless faces, listening to Miles clawing at the hatch, and the rumble of thunder over the dead city. X readied himself, dropping the blaster and pulling out his combat knife. Raising the two blades, he dropped into a loose, ready stance with his boots firmly planted.

  The first beast leaped into the air, claws extended and jaws open. Saliva webbed across its jagged teeth. X jabbed the knife into its mouth, spearing through the soft palate and into the brain.

  An edge of the knife had lodged in bone, so he let go and moved out of the way. The creature slammed to the ground with the blade stuck inside its brain. When the second Siren turned to check on the plight of its kin, he swung the machete, slicing a deep gash in its back and exposing ribs. It screamed in agony and scrambled away, making way for the third and final monster to plow into X.

  They thudded to the ground in a mass of tangled arms. Air burst from X’s lungs. He had landed on his back, with the machete between his armor and the creature’s flesh. He pushed up on the blade, cutting into the Siren’s torso. Wailing and writhing in pain, it reared back, gripping its side to keep its entrails from falling out.

  X didn’t give the thing a chance to run. He hacked at it over and over again, spraying his armor with its blood. The sickening crunch of each stroke rang out until the beast finally crashed to the ground.

  He wiped the gore off his visor.

  Another screech sounded behind him, and he turned to see the creature he had wounded earlier lunging for him. There was no time to avoid the claws. Elongated nails raked over his armor, and one of them sliced through his suit, opening one more gash on his scarred flesh.

  He winced in pain. It slashed again, but this time X jumped to the side. The creature fell onto all fours, and X swung the machete down on the exposed back of its neck, cutting so deeply that the head hung by strands of sinew. Another slash, and the head fell away.

  Gasping for air, he staggered away from the carcass as blood jetted from the stump. He looked out over the killing field of dead beasts, their blood steaming in the darkness. Flashes of blue illuminated the reddened mud.

  He dragged himself back to the vehicle and opened the hatch. Miles jumped out, but X herded him back inside. He had to get them both patched up and their suits fixed before the monsters returned.

  As he secured the hatch behind him, he looked at the shattered radio. He hoped his message had gotten through to someone before the crash. Then he saw the remains of his book—the picture of a beach and palm trees, his precious words, and the other memories now nothing but ash. He gripped his bleeding side, telling himself that the tears prickling his eyes were from the physical pain of his injuries.

  He gritted his teeth and stuffed the maps of military bunker locations into his vest. Those just might end up saving his life in the future. There was no time to despair over the words he was leaving behind. All he could do was keep moving.

  * * * * *

  Present day

  Michael dashed down the corridor, losing Layla in his wake. With the ankle she had sprained several days earlier on
the surface, she simply couldn’t keep up. He knew he should wait for her, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. He was too anxious to see what Rodger and Magnolia had discovered.

  His and Layla’s search had uncovered nothing but empty quarters. Someone had already been through the ship, stripping it of valuables and supplies.

  It took him another ten minutes to get to room 91, and by the time he reached the open hatch he was winded—not from the fast pace, but from lack of food. He was exhausted, and without proper nutrition, he was running on fumes.

  Michael stopped to catch his breath, and Layla caught up with him. Her face was even paler than usual and slick with sweat. They both were young. It shouldn’t be this tiring to get from one side of Deliverance to the other.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Layla simply nodded and walked past him, into the room where Rodger and Magnolia were standing over Timothy’s flickering form.

  “What the …?” Layla said. “Why are there mummies in here? Who are they?”

  Timothy let out a racking sob, the hologram blinking in and out. Translucent tears dripped from his eyes, fizzling into nothingness before they could reach the floor.

  Michael hadn’t known that AIs could cry.

  “Commander, may I speak with you?” Rodger asked.

  Michael pointed with his chin down the corridor, and Rodger joined him outside while Magnolia whispered soothing words to the distressed AI.

  “We have a problem,” Rodger said.

  “I can see that,” Michael replied. He grabbed the hatch and quietly shut it so they could talk in private.

  “Apparently, those corpses were his family, and … I don’t even know how to say this.” Rodger looked back into the room. “That’s Timothy’s body in there.”

  Michael let out a breath. “Holy shit,” he said. “Wait, I thought he was the final survivor of the Bastion and transferred his consciousness to the AI program.”

  “Apparently, that was after he killed his entire family,” Rodger said.

  Michael eased the hatch open a sliver to peer inside, eyeing the pistol in the original Timothy’s dead hand.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said. He unconsciously reached for his own holstered pistol as he considered what would drive a man to do such a thing. Facing similar circumstances, could he ever shoot Layla? The idea made him sick, but he could imagine scenarios where it would be better than the alternative.

  “He must have wanted to end things his way,” Michael whispered. “To keep his family from being ripped to shreds by the Sirens.”

  Rodger saw him reach for the gun but didn’t understand the reason. “Don’t worry, Commander, the Sirens are long gone. This all happened hundreds of years ago.”

  Timothy stood and finally turned to face Michael, holographic tears still streaming down his face.

  Michael relaxed his grip on the pistol and let his hand fall to his side. He pushed the hatch open and walked inside with Rodger.

  “I’m very sorry, Commander,” Timothy said. “My memory was damaged when Rodger and Magnolia activated my program at the Hilltop Bastion. Some of the older memories are just now coming back. It appears my programming suppressed them for obvious reasons. Seeing the bodies brought them back.”

  Timothy winced, his brow furrowing as if he relived his painful last moments. He reached up and put a hand on his head. With his other hand, the AI pointed to a bookshelf propped against the right bulkhead. “Commander, would you please move that?”

  “Is that real oak?” Rodger said, stepping over to take a look.

  “Just give me a hand,” Michael ordered.

  Together, he and Rodger moved the shelf to reveal a four-foot-high door built into the bulkhead and secured by a touch-screen keypad. Michael tried to open it, but it was locked.

  “One moment,” Timothy said.

  A click sounded, and the door popped open, revealing shelves stacked full of supplies.

  “We came here to hide from the beasts while most of the other residents hid inside the facility,” Timothy said. “But when the Sirens entered the ship, my family … we decided to end things quickly. We never got a chance to use these supplies, but perhaps they will help you.”

  Michael reached in and pulled out a container of dried food. Blaster shells, flares, food, and containers of water in sealed packages were arranged neatly on the shelves. It would keep Michael and his team alive for weeks, if not longer.

  “I’m sorry about your family,” he said, turning from the shelves. “Sorry you had to see them like this.”

  Timothy dipped his head, and when he looked up, it was as if the storm of emotions had never happened. He met Michael’s gaze. “Will you do me one favor when I drop you off on the surface, Commander?”

  “Sure, Timothy. Whatever you need.”

  “Will you please bury my family? They deserve that much, and in my current form, I am unable to give them a proper burial.”

  * * * * *

  “Your daughter won’t have to dive as long as you do your part, Sergeant,” Jordan said. “That means carrying out every order without so much as a flinch. You got that?”

  Sergeant Jenkins stood across from Jordan’s desk in the office inside the bridge. He nodded solemnly. “Yes, Captain. You have my word.”

  Jordan met the soldier’s gaze, searching for the lie. The last thing he needed right now was to worry about Jenkins plunging a knife into his back.

  But Jordan had a contingency plan in case Jenkins betrayed him.

  “If you do decide to ignore this conversation, Erin will dive again—without a chute. Got it?”

  Jenkins nodded again, his nostrils flaring with anger. That was okay with Jordan. Who wouldn’t be mad?

  “It’s nothing personal, Sergeant. I’m just trying to ensure the survival of everyone on this ship. We need your daughter to train the new recruits, and I need to make sure you don’t get any bright ideas.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of that, sir.”

  Jordan took another few seconds to study Jenkins before dismissing him. As the hatch swung open, he saw Ensign Ryan, waiting for him on the platform outside the office. Ryan shifted his glasses higher on his nose—a nervous habit that told Jordan something was wrong.

  “What is it?” Jordan asked.

  Ryan glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. The platform was empty, and the officers stationed on the levels of the bridge below them were all focused intently on their screens, monitoring everything from the water pressure to the electrical storms.

  “Captain, I’ve intercepted another message from Xavier Rodriguez,” Ryan said quietly. “I’m not sure how old it is, but this one is from a different location than the others.”

  Jordan gestured for Ryan to enter the office. The hatch sealed them inside, and Jordan opened a desk drawer. He retrieved a map marked classified and spread it across the small table across from his desk. On the map were dozens of locations where they had picked up X’s transmissions over the years. Jordan had kept the project a secret, revealing it to only two other people aboard the Hive.

  “Go get Lieutenant Hunt,” he ordered.

  Ryan left the room, and returned a few minutes later with the XO. Leaning down, Jordan examined the locations of the other messages. They formed a squiggly line away from Hades, toward the coast.

  “Where was he transmitting from this time?” Jordan asked.

  “A place called Asheville, North Carolina. He claimed there’s an ITC facility with more of that synthetic food. You know, the kind that looks like strings.”

  “Yes,” Jordan said, annoyed. “I’m aware of what it looks like. What else did he find? I’m not risking a dive for food that will last us only a few months.”

  “Fuel cells and livestock embryos,” Ryan said.

  Jordan straightened his back and ma
ssaged the wrinkles on his forehead. “We are in desperate need of more chickens.”

  “Here are the coordinates,” Ryan said. He pulled out a piece of paper and placed it near the map, then took a pen from his uniform and circled the location.

  Jordan had never taken the time to memorize the old states until he started following X’s journey. Now he could practically draw the map from memory.

  “Damn, he’s getting close to the ocean,” Jordan said. He walked over to his desk and sat down in front of his monitor. He touched the screen and brought up another map that showed the radiation levels across the continent.

  “Looks like Asheville is in the middle of a red zone,” Jordan said. “I’d be amazed if he made it out of there alive. It’s got to be crawling with Sirens.”

  “He’s surprised us before, sir,” Hunt said.

  Jordan looked around the monitor at Hunt. “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, sir,” Hunt said. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  There was no trace of sarcasm in Hunt’s tone, and Jordan turned his attention back to the monitor.

  “The facility is on the outskirts of the city,” Jordan said. “It looks like it’s in a yellow zone.” He checked the current location of the Hive. “We’re about two hundred and thirty miles west of Asheville. I had planned on checking out several green zones with the new divers, but this is one hell of an opportunity.”

  “Sir, you’d send novice divers into a red zone?” Ryan asked, sliding his glasses up his nose.

  “It’s a yellow zone,” Jordan said with a shrug, “and if they die, I can always recruit from the lower decks. I’ve also got Ty Parker in the brig. Jenkins seems to think we should let him dive. His daughter would be a better option, but I made him a deal, and I’m going to honor my word.”

  “Parker is a risk,” Hunt said.

  “Tell me something I don’t already know, Lieutenant.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “I’ve made my decision,” Jordan said. He looked up from the map. “Change our course for these new coordinates.”