Hell Divers III_Deliverance Read online

  Hunt nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “And if anyone asks why, tell them we found something in the database about this location. You will not mention the transmission. Clear?”

  A second nod from Hunt, and a “yes, sir” from Ryan.

  “That’s all. Dismissed.” Jordan plopped back down in his leather chair and studied the radiation map on his monitor as the men left.

  This wasn’t his first time searching facilities X had visited. Each one had turned up supplies. The irony wasn’t lost on him. The diver he had left behind continued to keep the airship in the sky by providing locations of areas with food, fuel, and weapons. Jordan would continue to use the man until his luck finally ran out.

  SEVEN

  Almost two days after discovering the remains of Timothy’s family, they reached the edge of the massive storm. The AI was now preparing to set Deliverance down on the very surface it had been designed to destroy. Magnolia and the other divers stood in the cargo hold at the stern, watching through the starboard portholes.

  “I like the new look,” Rodger said, gesturing with his eyes toward Magnolia’s hair.

  She gave her freshly cut locks a casual toss and winked at him. Last night, she had gotten sick of the way her hair was always falling in her eyes, and asked Layla to help her hack it off. She hadn’t been able to touch up the cobalt streaks in her hair, but she rather liked the way they had grown out and faded. The tips were a soft blue—the color the sky was supposed to be.

  Two miles to the east, the colossal electrical storm rolled across the horizon in every direction. Magnolia always thought of the storms as living beasts. The flashes were constant, lighting up the monstrous belly. The churning clouds parted briefly to reveal the yellow heart of the storm. There was no way they could fly through the storm, and diving was out of the question.

  “The surface will be safer than the sky,” Michael said as if reading Magnolia’s mind. He turned from the view to look at the divers in turn. He got two nods in reply, then a low belch from Rodger.

  “Sorry,” Rodger said, wiping his mouth. “I … really don’t feel so good.”

  Magnolia clapped him on the shoulder. “Suck it up. If X can survive a decade down there, you can push through a stomachache.”

  Rodger burped again.

  “You good to go or not, Rodger?” Michael asked.

  “Good to go, Commander.”

  Michael said to the AI, “All right, Timothy, start the descent. Everyone else, let’s gear up.”

  Timothy’s hologram vanished after acknowledging the order. Since encountering his own corpse, the AI had kept to himself, only answering direct questions or helping when beckoned, and today was no different. He was turning out to be very human, expressing emotions beyond what Magnolia could possibly have expected from a computer program.

  The corpses lay in state on the loading platform at the other end of the cargo bay. Blankets covered them, and a shovel was on the floor beside them for when they landed. It was the old way of burying people, during a time long before the Hive. Timothy had asked them to follow the old tradition.

  Magnolia forced her gaze away and circled around the only furnishing in the entire cargo bay: a metal table bolted to a bulkhead, where they had set out their diving gear and supplies. The dull black armor that had saved her life countless times was waiting for her to put it on. She fastened the clasps on both sides, tightening them an extra notch for the weight she had lost.

  “I had to do the same thing,” Rodger said with a grin. He patted the black armor covering his belly. “I’ve probably lost ten pounds in the past week.”

  “You were too skinny to begin with,” she said. “And you could use a shave.”

  He scratched his straggly beard. “I thought ladies liked a man with a little scruff on his chin and chest.”

  Magnolia took a swig of water from her bottle before holstering the canister on her duty belt. For the first time in days, she felt refreshed, but she was still nervous about the long trek across the radioactive landscape, especially through a swamp—even if it was to find X.

  The divers continued donning their armor, working together to clip the tricky pieces. They completed the routine by inserting the battery units into the socket in their chest armor. The blue glow from the heart of each suit warmed to life, spreading across the room. Michael’s glowed red, due to modifications he’d made before his final dive from the Hive, giving his battery a longer life than the others’.

  Rodger fished in his pack and handed out four black patches. “I made these from material I found in the engineering wing. It’s a synthetic polymer—very rare.”

  Layla held hers up. “Where’s it go?”

  “Over your battery unit,” Rodger said with a roll of the eyes. He slapped his on his chest. “I even added some magnets so they lock on to our armor.”

  “Okay, so why do we need these?” Michael asked.

  Rodger looked at the commander the way he might look at a slow child. “They’ll lessen the energy footprint that our suits give off.”

  “So these things make us invisible,” Michael said.

  Magnolia examined the patch, impressed. Rodger was without a doubt one of the smartest men on the Hive.

  “Nice work Rodger Dodger,” Layla said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  Rodger smiled and pushed his broken glasses farther up on his nose. “I was also able to fully charge all the units,” he announced proudly. Magnolia threw him a glance, and he added, “Thanks to Mags.”

  “Good job,” Michael said. He tied his hair back and then pulled up the ship’s database on the touch-screen monitor attached to the table.

  “I picked the closest LZ to the signal, putting us within twenty-five miles,” he said. “There was a road here at one point. My hope is we can take it to Miami and avoid most of the swampland, but we won’t know until we set down.”

  A hologram shot out of a center console, displaying a translucent image of the landscape twenty thousand feet below.

  Rodger scratched the back of his head nervously. “Any idea what kind of radiation levels we should expect down there?”

  Everyone looked at Timothy, who had reappeared by the bodies resting on the liftgate. The AI bent down and reached out as if to touch them. Magnolia had some concerns about his behavior. Her heart broke for the program, or man, or whatever he was now. No one should have to see their family like that. But they still needed Timothy to do his job.

  Michael seemed to have the same thought. “Timothy, are you okay?” he asked.

  The AI nodded, finally turning back to the team. “Yes, Commander.”

  “You’re sure?” Layla asked.

  Timothy shifted his gaze from Michael to Layla. “I am functioning within normal parameters.”

  His words didn’t seem to convince Michael, who gestured for the AI to join him. They stepped aside to have a private chat.

  “Let’s finish up here,” Magnolia said to Rodger.

  “He’s off his rocker, man,” Rodger whispered. “Can AIs lose their shit? Because—”

  “Let Commander Everhart deal with Timothy,” Magnolia said. “You just focus on not puking, okay?” She grabbed two long curved blades that looked like double-edged sickles off the table and slid them into sheaths that buckled across her chest armor. The new weapons would replace the knife she had lost at the Hilltop Bastion. She had already rewrapped the old metal hilts.

  Next, she stuffed flares and extra shotgun shells into the front of a nylon bandolier around her thigh armor.

  Rodger chose an ax from their gear—another tool they had found on the ship. He had cut it down into a more practical weapon by removing half the handle.

  “I’m honestly more worried about what we’re going to find on the surface,” Layla said quietly. “Assuming we survive the radiation and monsters down there. W
hat if we’ve come all this way for nothing? What if X is just a skeleton?”

  “He’s alive, trust me,” Magnolia said. “You were too young to remember him, but he—”

  “Bullshit,” Layla said, stepping up within inches of Magnolia’s face. “I remember him just fine.”

  Michael returned before Magnolia could reply. His youthful features were strained, and she could tell he was nervous about more than the expedition to find X. He didn’t need Magnolia picking a fight with his girlfriend.

  “Something wrong here?” he asked.

  “Nope, we’re good,” Magnolia said firmly. Layla held her gaze for a second before backing off.

  The hull suddenly creaked, and the floor vibrated as the ship began to lower through the clouds.

  “Initiating landing procedures,” Timothy announced. “We’re at twenty-two thousand feet. We will arrive at the landing zone in ten minutes.”

  “You heard him,” Michael said. He pulled the blaster out of his thigh holster and dropped a flare and two shotgun shells into the break. The other divers finished their final preparations, with the clatter of magazines being slapped into weapons.

  It wasn’t exactly predive jitters, but Magnolia felt a messy combination of fear and adrenaline working through her system. The ship jolted again as they lowered through the sky. Lightning flashed outside the portholes, but they were too far away from the storm for the distant thunder to rattle the bulkheads.

  “Ten thousand feet,” Timothy announced.

  “Start scanning the LZ for heat signatures,” Michael ordered. He watched the map on the center console. A green overlay appeared, but not a single heat signature blinked back during the first scan. It looked as though the ground was clear. Michael folded a map on the table and slipped it into a waterproof sleeve while they waited for Timothy to finish the scan.

  “Radiation levels are in the upper tiers of the yellow zone,” Timothy said. “No contacts in the general vicinity.”

  Michael grabbed his helmet and slipped it over his head. “Okay, Raptor, time for a systems check.”

  Magnolia slung her rifle over her back and put on her helmet—the final step of their gear prep. One by one, the HUDs flickered on, revealing their beacons on the minimap in the upper right corner.

  “Raptor One, online,” Michael said.

  “Raptor Two, online,” Layla said.

  Rodger tapped the side of his helmet several times. “Oh, there we go,” he said on the third try. “Raptor Three is A-OK.”

  “Raptor Four, online,” Magnolia said.

  “Open the doors,” Michael ordered.

  The hydraulics hissed as the top of the loading door opened. A light wind gusted into the bay, puffing up the sheets that covered the corpses on the platform.

  Michael grabbed a backpack from the table and set it at his feet. “Timothy, as soon as we move under that storm, we’re probably going to lose contact,” he said. “Wait for us in the sky here unless another storm rolls in. Once we link up with X, we’ll transmit for evac. I expect it will take us several days to complete the mission.”

  “Understood, Commander. I will be here waiting for you.” The AI smiled, displaying a perfect set of holographic teeth, but his expression seemed forced.

  Magnolia’s stomach knotted. What if Timothy left them out here? He might look like a man, but he was technically a machine—and an unpredictable one at that.

  The loading door continued opening as the Hell Divers approached, standing side by side. Lightning forked through the swollen storm clouds, leaving behind blue afterimages that quickly faded. The skies to the south were mostly calm.

  “Six thousand feet,” Timothy said.

  Magnolia chinned on her night-vision goggles and waited for her eyes to adjust to the green view. Wind continued to whistle into the cargo hold. A rogue gust flipped the sheet off Timothy’s deceased daughter. The fabric sailed away, flying past Magnolia as if the girl’s ghost had finally departed.

  Timothy’s hologram faded in and out before solidifying again. The bulkheads vibrated as the ship suddenly picked up speed. Magnolia reached out for something to hold on to, stumbling.

  “Timothy, hold us steady,” Michael called out.

  “Warning,” announced an automated female voice over the PA system. “Warning,” she repeated in a calm and professional manner. “Threat level rising.”

  Timothy started walking toward the bodies, ignoring both the alert and Michael’s order. The door was almost completely open, and as they picked up speed, the drafts grew more violent, rippling the exposed parts of Magnolia’s suit. A second sheet blew away.

  “Timothy!” Michael yelled.

  “Warning,” the female voice said a third time. “Thrusters three and four are offline.”

  Deliverance tilted slightly, enough to throw Magnolia off balance. The following jolt, amplified by the speed of their descent, sent her crashing to the floor.

  “Threat level critical,” the maddeningly calm female voice said over the PA.

  “Timothy, what the hell are you doing?” Michael screamed.

  Layla and Rodger remained standing, their arms flung out for balance. The lift door finished opening with a metallic click as Timothy’s holographic projection bent down next to his dead daughter, the wind whipping her thin hair. The sheet over his wife had flipped up, exposing her leathery face. He reached down to cover her back up, to no avail.

  He’s gone haywire, Magnolia realized as he kept trying to pull the sheet back over her face even as the ship crashed.

  The Klaxon wailed from the speakers, and the female voice continued to warn them of the impending crash. “Emergency. Threat level critical. All thrusters are offline. Ship integrity threatened. Please move to life-support units.”

  The airship tilted again, and Magnolia scrambled for the platform. Her eyes had adjusted to the optics, and in the green hue she glimpsed the terrain below. There didn’t appear to be a road—only what looked like vibrating earth.

  She tried to get to the corpses, thinking that if she could just cover them, Timothy might snap out of it, but the ship tilted again before she could reach the liftgate. The bodies began to slide toward the edge of the platform. The shovel slipped over the side.

  Timothy remained on his knees, swiping determinedly at his dead daughter with his see-through hands.

  Rodger let out a high-pitched wail as he hit the ground and began sliding. Magnolia tried to grab the raggedy shoes of the nearest corpse.

  “Timothy, you have to calm down,” she said. “You’re going to kill us all. That’s not what you want, is it?”

  She reached out and put a hand over his. It slipped through the holographic projection. “What was her name?”

  That got his attention.

  “Susan,” Timothy mumbled, still grasping ferociously at the flapping sheet that half-covered his wife. “We called her Susie Q.”

  “Susan wouldn’t want you to do this, would she? She’d want you to save us.”

  The ship continued to plummet through the air without slowing. Cracks and groans echoed throughout the cargo bay like snapping bones. The ship was advanced, but it wasn’t designed for a free fall. It would take only forty seconds or so to hit the dirt at this rate, and they were still picking up speed. Magnolia found it more and more difficult to move. It was almost like diving.

  “Three thousand feet, and we’re picking up speed!” Rodger shouted, his voice distant.

  “Threat level severe,” said the female voice. “Please evacuate.”

  The Klaxon wail was almost drowned out by the roar of wind.

  “Timothy, please,” Magnolia begged, her entire body shaking. “Susan would not want this. She would want you to help us.”

  “Two thousand feet!” Rodger yelled.

  Michael and Layla were crawling toward the table b
olted to the bulkhead behind them, but Magnolia knew there was no way they would be able to stop the ship now. Their fate rested in Timothy’s hands.

  A flash of motion came from behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Rodger holding out the missing sheet.

  “Help me with this!” he yelled.

  Magnolia reached out, and together they draped the flapping sheet over Susan’s remains. Timothy’s hands stilled.

  “Now, turn the goddamn thrusters back on!” Magnolia shouted.

  Timothy tilted his head and looked at her for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten who she was.

  The thrusters kicked back on, jolting the ship so hard that Magnolia and Rodger were pressed against the floor.

  Pain raced through her knees and wrists, but she managed to push herself up. The ship leveled out and then continued its now-gradual descent, slowly lowering them until they were just above the ground. The thrusters had shut off, but the turbofans whirled below, allowing the ship to hover.

  “Threat level stabilized,” said the female voice. The Klaxon shut off, and silence filled the cargo bay.

  Magnolia glanced up at her HUD. They were only a hundred feet above the ground, hovering with the turbofans. Outside, the dirt seemed to be moving again. She pushed herself up to find that the brown, swirling terrain wasn’t dirt at all. The turbofans sent air drafts over a brown swampland, blowing ripples out across the sludge-colored water.

  Timothy rose to his feet and looked curiously around at the chaos of the launch bay. “What just happened here?” He shook his head from side to side as if he had just woken from a deep sleep.

  “You just about killed us, and I just about pooped myself again,” Rodger said. “That’s what just happened.”

  “Holy shit,” Layla said, breathing heavily. She wasn’t looking at Timothy—she was looking out the open cargo door. Michael joined the three divers on the platform next to the corpses.

  Below, the swampland seemed to stretch forever. A beeping sounded behind them, and Magnolia turned to see the monitor on the table across the room flashing, red dots moving across the translucent LZ.