Warriors

THIRTY-SEVEN

The little catamaran had slipped ahead of the aircraft carrier in the darkness, but time was running out for Ada to reach the Vanguard Islands and warn King Xavier about the machines.

In a few hours, her sails would penetrate the barrier between dark and light. The only saving grace was that the machines had slowed and stopped their ship. Planning their attack, or waiting for orders.

She remained on the weather deck, holding the wheel and wearing one of the life jackets she had found inside the cabin. The protection helped her manage her anxiety, although it was building again. With each wave her hulls thumped over, the anticipation grew. She had endured hell in the wastes, but that would all be a walk in the park, as they used to say, if the machines reached the islands.

She turned for a parting look at the aircraft carrier, but she had sailed out of view.

A pounding sounded below.

Jo-Jo hammered at the hatch, wanting out of the cabin. The monkey’s constant slamming was grating on her nerves, but she couldn’t go and check on it now.

The black wall ahead seemed to lighten, or perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on her. According to her wrist monitor, she was still at least twenty miles from the barrier.

Ada took one hand off the wheel to use her binoculars. Holding them to her cracked visor, she raked them over the waves, stopping on a shape that jutted out of the ocean.

The sails flapped, hit by a crosswind that shook the boat. She nearly lost the binos over the gunwale. She put them away and grabbed the wheel, trying to keep the craft steady.

Moments later, a blast of lightning stabbed the horizon like a spear from the heavens.

In the glow, she saw a tower on the water.

She remembered then, several oil rigs were outside the barrier. This was where the Cazadores kept their prisoners—a place she could have been sent if not exiled. The Shark’s Cage.

She steered toward it, thrilled at her good luck. They would have a communication system there—a way to radio the king about what was coming. She hoped he was still alive to fight.

Thunder rattled the boat, and another lightning strike fired the horizon, but she kept going toward the rig, undeterred.

A chill ran up her spine when she spotted something over her shoulder. She kept her gaze on that grid of ocean, but after a few moments, she marked it off as a wave.

She still had time.

Before her loomed the oil rig turned prison. The southern side had a marina where several boats were docked.

It had been a long time since she saw another human, and she prayed there were at least a few militia soldiers here, though she doubted it.

Tired, injured, and cranky, she wasn’t in the mood to talk to Cazadores.

Waves slapped at the boat as she sailed toward the piers. She eased off the sails, trying to slow the boat. This was the first time she had ever tried to dock.

All that matters is getting there, even if you destroy the boat.

But if she crashed, that could injure Jo-Jo. She realized then that the pounding below had stopped. Maybe that was good.

Ada put the monkey out of her mind. As she sailed closer, one question consumed her: How had the machines found them?

A cracking sound snapped her away from the implications. The damn monkey was trying to escape.

Ada was locking the wheel when she heard the shattering of glass on the starboard side of the boat. A bundle of dark fur emerged on the aft ladder. Two wide black eyes stared at her.

“You little shit!” she yelled. “Get over here!”

Jo-Jo climbed up onto the deck and clung to her leg.

Ada grabbed the steering wheel again. A wave slapped the port side, dousing them in water. She wasn’t sure Jo-Jo could swim, and didn’t want it to freak out when it saw other humans, especially Cazadores in full armor.

Ada eyed the other life jacket she had found belowdecks. It was out of reach, and with Jo-Jo clinging to her leg she couldn’t nudge it with her boot.

The rig was close now, the docks within view.

Letting go of the wheel, she hobbled over to the jacket, with Jo-Jo stuck like a limpet to her leg. She strapped the creature into the jacket, then hurried back to the wheel.

Right as she grabbed it, a rumbling sounded over the waves, commanding both her and the creature’s attention. The noise was from a motor.

A light blasted the sailboat, blinding Ada and sending the monkey bolting.

“No!” Ada shouted.

She raised a hand to block the spotlight beam. The creature had gone now, retreating to the lower deck.

Another beam hit Ada in the side of the head, forcing her to turn away, and she heard the chug of another motor.

Over the engine noise came shouting, all in Spanish.

A flare streaked into the sky, exploding in a bright-red burst.

In the glow, she spotted multiple small vessels closing in from different directions.

Within minutes, the sailboat was surrounded.

“Lower your sails!” someone shouted in English.

“It’s me, Ada Winslow!” she yelled back. “The machines are coming!”

“Shut up and lower your sails!”

She decided to do as ordered.

Six boats closed in as she slowed her craft.

“There’s something on the deck behind the mast!” someone shouted. “Some sort of…”

Ada turned to look for Jo-Jo but froze when a gunshot cracked.

“Hands up and don’t move!” yelled the same voice from earlier.

“You have to listen to me!” she cried. “There is a ship, an aircraft carrier of machines heading this way!”

No one replied at first.

Then came laughter.

“Hands up. Don’t make me tell you again!”

A voice in Spanish followed—someone giving orders. Two of the boats approached, men on the bows, ready to jump onto her deck. Not just Cazadores. The militia was here, too, and they might shoot her strange companion out of fear.

She raised her hands and slowly turned. “Please! You have to listen to me!”

“We’re coming aboard. Don’t move!”

The monkey whimpered. It was hiding somewhere below, and she had to get to it before the soldiers did. She walked away from the wheel, holding a breath in her chest, waiting for bullets to pierce her flesh.

She made it to the ladder. Bathed in light, she stood there, searching the deck for Jo-Jo.

She found the monkey in a corner on the port side, by a lashed-down stack of crates. She pushed her luck by climbing down the ladder.

Several voices called out to stop her, but no bullets came. She got to the deck and hurried over to Jo-Jo, petting the monkey with one hand and keeping the other hand above her head.

The two boats that had started to approach had stalled. She could hear distant voices, all of them quieter now.

Then, over the chug of outboard motors, she heard humming.

“What is that?” a soldier asked.

Ada turned toward the Shark’s Cage but saw nothing. Then she looked out over the ocean. The warriors in the boats were doing the same thing, turning in all directions.

Purple streaks burst from the clouds, and a swarm of spherical craft the size of Siren cocoons rocketed out of the sky.

“Incoming!” someone yelled.

“Fire!”

Gunfire cracked all around her, muzzles winking in the darkness. Laser bolts lit up the darkness like perfect lines of lightning. One hit the boat nearest her, and it burst into flames. The next beam flashed through the sailboat’s deck.

Ada did the only thing she could think of. She sucked in a breath, grabbed Jo-Jo, and jumped overboard. Waves swallowed them, but she kept her grip on the terrified monkey.

The life jackets pulled them back up toward the dazzling flurry of bolts lancing through the darkness. She tried to stay below the surface, using her legs and free arm to push down.

But they bobbed back up.

The sounds of slaughter boomed in her ears. She swallowed a mouthful of water from a wave that slapped against them.

On her back, still choking, she kicked away from the boats. Jo-Jo gripped her tight, digging its nails into her.

Hold on, little friend.

Laser bolts flashed from the drones swooping overhead. Explosions boomed, and glowing metal hissed into the water. An armored body splashed in front of her and sank like a stone.

She finally stopped coughing and rolled onto her belly, one arm around Jo-Jo, the other paddling.

Bolts sizzled into the black water below her. Muffled sounds filled her ears.

She expected a bolt to burn through her at any moment, but only her lungs burned. She kept kicking until she couldn’t.

Pulling her face up, she listened. This time, there was only a humming sound. Water dripped off her visor.

When her vision cleared, fires raged on all the boats. The drones had already flown away, their thrusters flaring as they sped toward the Vanguard Islands.

She was too late.

Treading water, she searched for the Shark’s Cage, hoping to get inside and send a message over the comms. A glance told her it wasn’t going to happen.

The rig burned like a cornstalk. With a loud crack, the top deck of the tower slid off into the water. The splash formed a sizable wave that pushed outward.

She held Jo-Jo, trying to think of what to do as smoke wafted into the sky. Over the crackling fires, she heard what sounded like a motor.

A voice called out. “¡Auxilio!”

Someone was still alive.

Holding Jo-Jo with her right arm, she side-stroked toward the noise, her life jacket keeping her afloat. Amid the burning flotsam, a single boat remained. At the gunwale, a man in Cazador armor fished out the soldier who had cried for help.

Ada swam over as the boatman pulled the soldier aboard. When she reached the rescue craft, she tensed, half expecting the armored Cazador to point a gun at her. Instead, he reached out a gloved hand.

A memory of the Lion’s crew surfaced, and regret tugged at her heart. There was only one way to make up for it.

Ada side-stroked the rest of the way, holding Jo-Jo against her. Reaching the boat, she took the Cazador’s hand, burying the past in hope that together they could help save the future.

When X told Magnolia to meet them in the abandoned shipping yard “when the shit hits,” he hadn’t meant it as an understatement. But the Sirens he and Victor had let out of the electronic fence weren’t just heading into the compound; they were taking off into the refinery.

It wasn’t just skinwalkers they were hunting. The group of ITC slaves had returned after hoisting up the bodies of the Barracuda recon team. X couldn’t see them, but he could hear their guttural screams. The Sirens were tearing them apart.

X and Victor continued through the maze of wrecked boats in the yard, putting distance between themselves and the monsters. Victor carried his shield over his back and led the way with his assault rifle. They passed a boat that was nothing but metal ribs, looking like the carcass of a whale calf.

They made it to the container ship without being seen. By the time they started climbing a ladder to the deck, the outpost sounded like a war zone. Gunfire cracked, and the high-pitched shrieks of the freed Sirens added to the cacophony.

X took up position near the gunwale and glassed the industrial buildings inside the compound. A single steel door had opened, but only six skinwalkers had emerged. That was good.

“Easy pickin’s,” X whispered.

Two of the soldiers didn’t even have their helmets on. Several were still loading weapons, and one had nothing but a machete in hand. The skeleton crew had been caught with their pants down, unaware that their patrols and snipers were dead.

X didn’t need to scan the six to know that Moreto and Horn weren’t among them. No, the cowards would be hiding underground, or perhaps they were on Raven’s Claw. Maybe even a submarine.

X hoped that wasn’t the case. He had to avenge Rhino with his spear. It was the only way for the general to reach his Valhalla.

Determined, X crept along the rusted gunwale of the ship while the cries of the slaughter continued. The staccato of gunfire was followed by an electronic wail from a dying Siren.

He tried not to think of what was happening on the diving mission or back at the Vanguard Islands, or even to Miles and Rodger on the beach. But it was nearly impossible. The only thing that helped was fighting. Merely watching the fighting didn’t help much.

A burly skinwalker strode away from the others, fearlessly approaching twenty prowling beasts in the compound. He raised two submachine guns in his beefy hands. The bastard had packed on weight by feasting on human flesh. But in a few moments, it would be the Sirens feasting.

The skinwalker sprayed the advancing monsters with both weapons, the muzzle flashes lighting up his large frame. The ten beasts in the open charged, and those near the industrial buildings scurried up the walls to the roofs.

A muscular female Siren made it through the wall of gunfire, taking several hits before punching its talons through a skinwalker’s chest armor and bringing him down hard on his back. The beast slammed its head into the man’s helmetless face.

Another female jumped off a rooftop, landing on the back of the man with the submachine guns. He whirled, still firing, his bullets killing one of his fellow soldiers.

The other four men fled while a pack of beasts descended on their two fallen comrades. A dozen more Sirens gave chase, quickly catching up to two laggards.

Hearing their screams, X smiled with grim satisfaction, then looked over his shoulder for Magnolia. She should be here by now.

“You see Mags out there?” he asked.

Victor seemed to understand and looked back the way they had come. A dirt road curved around the compound’s outer walls. It bore fresh vehicle tracks. Weeds the height of a child framed the road. But X didn’t see Magnolia anywhere.

He checked the outpost once more to see the last two skinwalkers being surrounded by the Sirens they had starved. The other beasts were already feasting on corpses or had continued their hunt into the barracks.

The final screams rang out as the pack overran the two skinwalkers. They vanished under a flurry of spines, talons, and veiny flesh. One of the smaller abominations took off with an armored arm. It stopped behind a building where it peeled off the armor as if peeling off the shell of a shrimp to get at the meat.

Human screams died away in the distance, leaving the island in silence. Even the gunfire had stopped.

X searched for Magnolia again but still didn’t see her.

The lonely wail of a Siren shattered the stillness, and another monster answered the call. Hearing that sound, X still felt a shiver. They were once again the alphas in control of the outpost.

He zoomed the binos in on the refinery. Bodies of ITC slaves lay crumpled, gutted, many of them missing limbs. He had never seen one of the cryofrozen humans outside their chambers, and he couldn’t help but feel pity for them all.

But he was more worried about Magnolia.

Where the hell was she?

Victor pointed his rifle north, toward the harbor. “Men,” he said quietly.

X panned the binos to five men in armored suits. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the metal wasn’t covered in human skin.

These weren’t skinwalkers. They were the remaining Barracudas he had ordered to flank along the shoreline. Several limped from injuries, and the biggest man of the team had an arrow in his chest armor, the end already snapped off.

X didn’t want to leave without Magnolia, but he had a feeling she was hunkered down, waiting to make her move. Another fear crossed his mind: that a Siren had gotten to her.

X took the same ladder back to the ground with Victor. They joined the team of Barracudas in the boatyard.

The man with the arrow jutting from his chest armor walked over. It was Willis, the English-speaking Cazador X had talked to on the beach.

“King Xavier,” Willis said, “we cleared a patrol from the shore.”

“Good work. Victor and I took out the skinwalkers here, with a little help from the Sirens.”

“The demons.”

X nodded. “There are at least fifteen still out there.”

Willis nodded.

“Shadow is sailing east,” he said. “We saw Raven’s Claw to the northeast.”

X looked back out to sea but couldn’t distinguish much beyond the scrapyard. The warships would meet, eventually.

In the meantime, he had to do his part. It was not ideal and not the way he had planned it, but six able warriors stood in front of him and Victor. Once they linked up with Magnolia, he would take them into the outpost to clear the buildings and root out the rats.

X explained the plan to Willis, who then relayed it to his soldiers.

Pulling out his blaster, X led the way back through the scrapyard, hoping Magnolia was somewhere out here, waiting.

The Barracudas fanned out, weapons shouldered.

X went back the way he had come, all the way to the fence he and Victor had cut through after disabling the power.

Several sheds and abandoned structures provided cover from the fences to the building where Magnolia had laid down covering fire. He raised his binos to the window where he had last seen her. Nothing moved behind the opening.

X pushed forward. She would have seen him by now. Something had happened to her.

You should never have left her, you old prick.

The abandoned building was one of several outside the outpost and refinery. The others were just long warehouses. He kept low, eyes up, forward, then down—where he spotted Siren tracks. They led to the building on his left where he had last seen Magnolia.

The sight turned his gut to ice.

Another pair of prints angled toward the warehouse on his right.

He started running toward the larger building’s back entrance. The first set of Siren tracks led right to it.

Victor and the Barracudas followed him to the back wall, where they could see a wide alley between the buildings. He halted when he saw a flatbed truck parked diagonally at the other end, with a shipping container on the back. He hadn’t seen it before, but then again, he hadn’t checked the alley for anything but contacts.

X continued to the exit door that opened into a stairwell. Ash tracks led up into the dark building.

He stopped to listen for the prowling monsters. The other soldiers set up along the back wall.

A rattling sound rose over the wind. It wasn’t coming from inside the building.

Victor started to move around the corner to look into the alley, but X stopped him and went first.

A Siren had perched on the adjacent warehouse, all the way down by the parked truck. The eyeless head tilted like that of a curious bird on a branch. Its mouth opened into what looked like a macabre grin. Then it lowered its bald white head and tore into a body it had dragged up to the roof, where it could eat in peace. A bloody arm hung over the edge.

X swallowed, hoping to God it wasn’t Magnolia. He pointed his spear at the monster.

The Barracudas followed him into the wide alley, past rusted trash bins and piles of bricks.

Halfway down the alley, he stopped. The rattling came again. But it wasn’t coming from the rooftop as he had suspected.

His eyes flitted to the container on the truck. This wasn’t some abandoned vehicle. It had inflated tires. The back end was much lower than the front, indicating much weight in the container.

X looked back to the Siren and saw that it was chewing on an ITC worker. Relief filled him—it wasn’t Mags.

The beast suddenly shrieked and arched its spiked back, grasping an arrow in its side.

A second arrow and a third struck the creature, knocking it off the side of the building. It landed with a thud on the back bumper of the truck.

The shipping container shook violently, and a roar sounded inside.

X took a step back as the container door clanked open and a hulking figure emerged, glowing in the green hue of his optics. He flipped his NVGs off, expecting to see the orange visor and battery unit of a defector, but instead he saw a gargantuan monster.

Bones formed bars over the bulging muscles across its body. Barbed spheres protruded from the double-jointed elbows and kneecaps.

This was no machine, but a bone beast, or what the Cazadores also called a demon king. A metal halo was bolted onto its bony head, like some sort of evil crown.

The creature went down on one spiked kneecap, hunching slightly. Jutting from its back were the long, sharp bones that X had seen other bone beasts use as spears. But unlike those abominations, this creature seemed strangely docile.

X motioned for the Barracudas to get back. They all knew what it was, and needed no encouragement. Victor was the only one to step forward.

Whoever had shot the bolts at the Siren still had not emerged, and several Barracudas had run over to the warehouse to flank.

A buzzing sounded, and the bone beast reached up with a paw to the crown on its head, letting out a raucous cry that scrambled distant birds into the sky.

The monster jumped out of the container and landed on the ground, exposing a skinwalker in the back of the truck, who held a long black rod that connected to the metal crown.

“No!” X yelled when Victor went to shoot the man.

It was too late, and the burst hit the soldier in the chest. He released the rod, and the bone beast looked over its spiked shoulder.

Roaring, it grabbed the soldier and ripped off both legs like chicken bones. Then it whirled, flinging the limbs at X and Victor.

“Aim for the eyes!” X yelled. “Open fire!”

Rounds lanced into the creature as it bounded forward.

X almost tripped as he turned to run with Victor.

Two Barracudas were on their knees, firing assault rifles at the abomination, but X knew all too well they were going to need luck.

He ran past them, almost skidding in the dirt when he saw that a group of skinwalkers had flanked them from the scrapyard. The ten soldiers held rifles, spears, and bows, but none of them aimed their weapons yet.

They weren’t alone.

A female voice screamed, and the wall of armor parted to reveal Magnolia, crumpled at the feet of a short woman in armor. It had to be Carmela Moreto. Behind them, a massive soldier strode out of the shadows. Like the monster, the bastard prince wore a metal crown. His sported a horn.

Something about the flaps of dried flesh on his helmet seemed familiar. The lips looked female, but it was the buzzed crown cut from a skull that told X exactly who the face had belonged to.

“You sick son of a bitch,” he snarled.

Behind him, the bone beast gave a deep, baying howl and slammed into two Barracudas. One crashed to the ground, sliding all the way to X, with a dent in his chest armor. He wheezed, trying to suck breath into crushed lungs.

All around, in what seemed like slow motion, gunfire rang out with the war cries of warriors. X and his men were outnumbered over two to one, and the bone beast was tearing apart their rear flank.

He saw Magnolia move slightly.

Back when he first met her, the girl with attitude and a gothic vibe had given him the creeps. Now she was practically family—the rebellious daughter he never had. And there was only one way to save her: fight.

Horn twirled an axe and pointed it at X.

Victor screamed as he raised his shield with his injured arm, stopping several arrows and bullets meant for the king.

X used the moment and turned with his blaster, firing a flare into the bone beast’s face. The flare hit right where he had hoped, and rained sparks down on the Barracuda the creature was pummeling.

Dropping his blaster, X pulled the other half of Rhino’s spear from the sheath on his back. Releasing a war cry of his own, X ran with Victor and several Barracudas toward the skinwalkers. Horn and his men didn’t fire their guns. Instead, they brandished spears, swords, and machetes.

X clenched his jaw, focusing on Horn. In just seconds, he would have his chance to kill the man. As he ran, faint booming sounded in the distance. He spotted flashes on the horizon.

Shadow had finally found Raven’s Claw.

And X had finally found Horn and Moreto.

It was time to end this or die trying.