Warriors

THIRTY-NINE

Magnolia woke up on the ground, tasting metal. She opened her eyes to a blurred view of dirt and grit covered in ash.

Taking another breath of smoky air, she realized she didn’t have her helmet. She tried to look around for it, but her eyelids seemed the only thing she could control. The rest of her felt paralyzed. And her head hurt something awful.

She heard a faint clanking, followed by what sounded like grunts. Then people speaking in Spanish. Male voices, muffled by breathing apparatuses.

A familiar gruff voice said, “Don’t touch her!”

Magnolia blinked as strong hands hoisted her off the ground. As her motor function returned, she craned her neck to see an alley between two rusted buildings.

Armored bodies lay crumpled in the dirt between her and a flatbed truck with a shipping container on the back. She blinked again at the sight of a brooding beast with double-jointed kneecaps that ended in barbs.

This can’t be real.

The monster looked in her direction, or so it seemed. She realized that it wasn’t looking at her—or anything else, for that matter. Half its face was burned away.

A man stood behind the monster, holding it in place with a black iron rod attached to a metal crown around its skull.

The clanking came again as the people holding Magnolia up dropped her onto the ground facing a boat scrapyard.

She glanced in the direction of the clanking and grunting.

Two men dueled amid the wrecked vessels. One man held a spear, and the other wore a horned helmet covered in dried skin.

The man with the spear jabbed at the air, but his weapon wasn’t long like a normal Cazador spear, and his arm looked too short. Then it dawned on her: the spear was the man’s arm.

King Xavier…

Memories flooded her mind. She remembered everything up until the moment Horn sneaked up on her in the building. What happened after that was hazy. She knew only that the leader of the skinwalkers had taken her captive, choked her unconscious, and was now fighting X to the death. And she was a spectator.

Both men seemed sluggish now, their strikes weak and slow, as if they had been at it for hours.

On their knees nearby were two Barracuda soldiers and Victor, hands tied behind their backs. None of them said a word, but Magnolia managed to mumble, “X.”

A short figure suddenly blocked her view, removing its helmet to reveal a smirking wrinkled face. The green eyes of Carmela Moreto burned at Magnolia.

“You fucking bitch!” Magnolia blurted.

Moreto nodded proudly. “Sí, claro.”

The two men holding Magnolia tightened their grip as she regained command of her body. A rush of adrenaline was all she needed to get the use of her limbs back.

She nearly yanked free, but they pushed her to her knees, right in front of Moreto.

The old woman warrior leaned down close enough that Magnolia smelled her barbecue breath. Then Moreto leaned left to examine Magnolia’s head. Reaching out, she grabbed the bandage covering her burns and yanked it off.

Magnolia yowled in pain.

X glanced over, and Horn used the distraction to kick him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Her vision flooded with red, but she saw X roll away to avoid Horn’s boot. He stomped the ground where X had fallen, then swung one of his axes.

Moreto turned to watch.

Explosions flashed on the horizon, providing another distraction.

Magnolia spotted Shadow and Raven’s Claw. The warships had come up alongside each other, and although she couldn’t see it, she had a feeling General Forge and his men were in hand-to-hand combat with the skinwalkers.

This is what it all comes down to, she thought. Swords and spears.

And from what she could see, which wasn’t much, her side was losing. She could only hope that the forces at the Vanguard Islands were faring better and that the Hell Divers had completed their Africa mission just in case the machines had reached the islands.

Tin, Les, Layla, Rodger, Miles, X—everyone she loved in this world was in danger.

And not just them. The entire human race was at risk, thrust back into the apocalypse. The fate of the survivors would be determined by what happened in three far-flung locations.

Filled with rage, Magnolia jerked free of the two men and tackled Moreto. The old woman hit the ground hard, and Magnolia grabbed her around the neck, screaming.

This caught Horn’s attention right as he held both axes high, ready to bring them down or throw them at X, who was backing away.

X seized the opportunity to dart forward and jab with his spear arm. The blade punched in just below the collarbone, with a sickening crunch.

The skinwalker let out a roar and dropped one axe to the dirt.

Magnolia didn’t get a chance to see whether X finished the job. The two guards pulled her off Moreto and tossed her to the dirt, beside Victor.

Boots kicked her in the stomach and chest. The armor seemed to offer scant protection. Another kick knocked the breath from her lungs.

She glanced up just as Moreto stumbled over, holding her neck. Then she, too, joined in with a kick to Magnolia’s jaw.

Blood filled Magnolia’s mouth, and a piece of broken tooth cut her tongue.

She slumped to her stomach, drooling blood and saliva onto the ash.

The onslaught stopped, and a boot pushed against her back, holding her in place.

She raised a swollen eye to X and Horn. The spear blade he had jammed into Horn’s upper chest was stuck there.

Horn had tried to bring his remaining axe down on X, but X had grabbed his wrist and was pushing up with that hand while trying to pry the spear free with his stump.

“Die, asshole!” X said.

Planting his left boot, he pushed the blade deeper into Horn’s shoulder, eliciting another muffled roar of agony.

A distant Siren answered the call.

Horn pulled X closer to his chest, pulling the spear blade deeper into his own flesh. He continued to scream as he pulled X, not stopping until the blade broke out the back of his armor, blood dripping off its slick edge.

Now X was fastened to Horn’s armored chest.

The bastard prince, who was much taller, brought his horned helmet down hard against X’s. The first blow didn’t seem to inflict much damage, but the second knocked X’s head back.

He managed to keep his grip on Horn’s wrist until the third head-butt cracked his visor. X seemed to go limp in Horn’s grip.

He head-butted the king another time, and shards of visor fell to the dirt. Then he raised the axe and brought it up to finish off the king.

“No!” Magnolia shouted.

Victor tried to get up, only to be shot in the upper back. A halo of dust poofed up as he hit the dirt belly-first. The bullet didn’t stop him. Hands still tied, he squirmed toward the king.

Horn laughed as one of his men stomped on Victor’s back.

Magnolia’s heart skipped a beat, then another as Horn, still laughing, brought the axe down toward X’s head. But instead of hitting him in the helmet, he smashed the spear contraption attached to his stump, breaking it off.

Then he pushed X backward.

The king fell on his back and lay still.

Victor wriggled out from under the boot, but the skinwalker guard grabbed him by the boots and pulled him back to Magnolia. Tears rolled down her face as she watched helplessly.

Moreto bent down and wiped away a tear with her finger, then brought it to her tongue. Magnolia glared with more hatred than she could contain.

The distant chatter of gunfire sounded on the horizon as the battle continued between Forge and the other skinwalker forces.

She could only pray for the general’s victory. But even if he won that fight, there was little hope of him getting to X in time to save him from the demented skinwalker leader and his demonic mother.

Magnolia had to do something. But what?

She searched for a weapon, anything she could use. The other half of Rhino’s spear stuck out of the dirt ten feet away, which was about nine feet too far.

Horn staggered over to X, the other spearhead still stuck in his chest armor. Blood ran down his front and back. The blood loss would have been enough to bring most men to their knees, but like X, this wasn’t a normal man.

“Fight me!” Magnolia yelled.

Horn looked at her, then reached up and twisted his helmet until it clicked. He pulled it off to show his face for the first time.

Magnolia wasn’t sure how she had imagined el Pulpo’s son to look, other than ugly. But the strong jawline and dimpled cheeks had little in common with his father. The surprisingly handsome features were ruined by soulless eyes that now focused on her.

He licked the air and said, “Te dejo para luego”—something about saving her for later.

Then he went back to the king. Dripping blood, he bent down and pried X’s helmet off.

The scarred, battered face of the man Magnolia loved like a father tilted toward her.

Horn kicked the king’s legs out into an X shape. Then he kicked his left arm out at an angle. When Magnolia realized what he was doing, she felt bile rising in her throat.

The bastard was going to cut X’s limbs off, one by one.

“No,” she mumbled. “X…”

Horn staggered, then righted himself. He pointed his axe at someone behind Magnolia.

Snorting and the crunch of heavy footsteps told her what was happening now.

The bone beast lumbered by, led by the man with the electrical rod. Even Moreto stepped back, giving it a wide berth.

The skinwalker guard gave the beast a zap, bringing it down on its barbed knees only three paces from X.

Horn walked over to the monster and stopped in front of the ruined face. It was on the same level as his own eyes, even with the creature kneeling.

Blood snorted out of the burned nostrils, flecking Horn’s forehead and nose. He wiped it away and licked his hand.

“Ya vas a comer a un rey,” he said. Magnolia recognized the words “eat” and “king.”

He patted the creature on the head as if it were a dog, then turned back to X.

Horn didn’t just plan on cutting X into pieces. He planned on feeding each piece to his pet.

Over two hours had passed since the drones attacked the Shark’s Cage. The only survivors had pulled Ada and Jo-Jo out of the water, into a damaged fishing boat.

Miraculously, the craft made it to the Vanguard Islands, partly thanks to Ada’s bailing efforts with a metal bucket. Sitting low in the water, they crossed the barrier just before sunset.

Her view of home was obscured by smoke. It appeared that Ada was indeed too late to save her people.

The drones had swarmed the outer rigs, slaughtering civilians and soldiers alike. They had already moved to the interior rigs, leaving burning metal stalks in their wake.

A warship had sailed to meet the drones, but a squadron of the deadly machines rained bolts down onto it from all directions. Fire licked the hull of the massive ship that Ada recognized as Elysium.

The Cazador sailors put up a brave fight. Machine guns and twenty-millimeter cannons blazed into the sky, and pinpricks from small arms flashed from the deck.

Other vessels had also joined the battle, but many had already been turned to smoldering debris on the surface. She searched the sky for Discovery, and the water for the other warships, but none were in sight.

Had the airship already been destroyed? She shuddered at the thought. If Discovery was gone, they were doomed.

The two Cazadores also watched in horror, one manning the motor, the other slumped next to Ada, gripping his side, where a piece of shrapnel from the first attack had punched through his armor.

A pair of drones raked the deck of a fishing trawler with laser bolts. It burst into flames, then exploded. The wave of flames consumed the shapes of people jumping overboard.

Another pack of drones circled a rig that served as a slaughterhouse and cleaning station for livestock and fish. The bolts punched into the bulkheads, and flames burst out. Next to the rig, a farm burned. Hogs squealed in panic.

The machines weren’t discriminating. They were systematically killing everything that moved, from the outer rigs inward.

“We have to get to the capitol tower,” she said, pointing.

The Cazador pilot steered toward the airship roof. She spotted the decommissioned Hive on the horizon. The drones hadn’t made it there yet.

Maybe there was a chance to stop them. After all, some had already been blown from the sky.

Jo-Jo clutched Ada as the craft labored through the waves. So far, the drones hadn’t spotted them, but she kept a close watch to make sure they weren’t being followed.

An explosion bloomed on a rig up ahead. The injured Cazador man beside Ada got up and held on to a gunwale.

“no!” he yelled.

Several drones circled the rig, firing bolts onto the residential levels. Shacks collapsed and tents burned. Cazador civilians leaped off the decks into the water to escape the inferno.

A few Cazadores held their ground to defend their homes, firing rifles at the drones. One woman was shooting arrows.

The bullets and arrows had little effect, merely knocking the drones off course before they came back in and finished the job. The woman with the bow vanished in a fireball.

The Cazador soldier at the gunwale took off his helmet and knelt on the deck, weeping. He wiped the tears away and spat into the water, yelling curses in a language Ada didn’t understand. She shared his sorrow.

Their boat skirted a fishing trawler destroyed by the drones. It was still in the process of sinking, the stern poking out of the ocean and dropping fast.

A halo of debris surrounded the vessel. Barrels, tackle, and panels bobbed in the waves.

Ada pointed at someone treading water and waving. The pilot throttled down and cruised over to them.

This time, Ada was the one to extend a hand into the water.

Days earlier, she would never have dreamed of helping a Cazador. They all were evil cannibals who wanted her people dead. But things had changed since then.

The man who plucked her from the water instead of letting her drown had made her rethink everything.

A memory surfaced of dropping the Lion’s crew into the waves. She had killed them because she feared them, and because of what some of them had done to Katrina. But maybe X had been right about giving them a chance.

She shook off the thoughts as the boat brought her closer to the man in the water. He flailed in the other direction.

“Take my hand!” Ada yelled.

He turned around, treading water, then kicked over to her.

Their hands connected just as another explosion burst on the horizon. The drones had moved on to another rig. The trading post…

Jo-Jo let go of Ada’s leg to cower in the stern while the wounded soldier helped her haul the fisherman aboard. Then they putted away, the motor coughing acrid black smoke.

The rescued man nodded his thanks to Ada. But then, seeing the monkey, he reared back slightly. Jo-Jo, equally afraid, cowered behind Ada on the metal bench.

“It’s okay,” she said.

But it wasn’t okay. The trading post was being torn apart, and one of their farms had already been destroyed.

Elysium sailed over to help, still taking enemy fire. The bolts stitched down the warship’s hull. They were close enough now that Ada could see soldiers on the deck. They weren’t all Cazadores.

Militia soldiers in black armor stood among the warriors. They fought side by side, firing everything they had into the sky.

What had happened since she left? Maybe X had secured the peace he promised, after all.

Remorse continued to eat at her.

She looked back to the capitol tower. Cannons boomed from the rooftop, and in the waning sunlight came muzzle flashes from machine-gun nests.

Of the hundred drones that had attacked, over half were still in the air—enough to inflict major damage on the rigs. And from what she could see, the defectors’ aircraft carrier wasn’t even here yet.

In the waning light, muzzle flashes glowed like fireflies across the top deck of the Hive as soldiers and civilians defended their home. She noticed a gaping hole under the balcony platforms built out from the airship. But this one wasn’t smoking, and it had scaffolding around it. Was this from an earlier attack?

Tracer rounds chased a pack of drones that rocketed toward the Hive. One of the machines burst apart, scattering hot metal over the water.

It was a victory, but short-lived.

The swarm came together into a tight V formation six strong. Bolts punched into the Hive, blowing another hole in the side.

The Cazador pilot steered them in a wide arc around the flotsam of sunken boats.

Fires burned on three levels of the rig, but the drones had stopped their assault to concentrate their fire on Elysium.

Antiaircraft weapons on the warship pounded the sky, and two drones exploded. The other ten fanned out, then came back together into a chevron formation.

Bolts pierced the bow and slammed into the command tower. Soldiers on deck ran for cover as the squadron wheeled around for another run.

Ada looked around for the other warships. Where were they?

And where was X? The legendary Hell Diver would be out here, not hiding in the capitol tower.

She wondered again at the damage to the Hive. Something had happened when she was gone.

Darkness carpeted the ocean as the last drip of sun was swallowed by the outer edges of the Vanguard Islands. Flames from burning rigs reflected off the attacking drones.

It was easy to picture how they could have destroyed Discovery in a single pass if it were here. She prayed that Les had flown it somewhere safe. But that wasn’t in the captain and Hell Diver’s nature. Like X, he would be here in the thick of it, fighting to save their home.

She looked on as the soldiers on Elysium put up a last-ditch fight. The machine guns, cannons, and antiaircraft artillery blazed away as a new pack of drones left an adjacent rig to join the fight.

Together, the two aerial formations came in from starboard and port. Lasers pounded both sides at the same time.

A third formation had approached low over the water to avoid the ship’s defenses. They surged up into the sky, then made a strafing run over the deck. Soldiers dived overboard to avoid the brilliant wave of fire that erased the command tower.

The formations broke back into individual flight, and dozens of thrusters jetted purple flame as they moved on to new targets.

Then all at once, they took to the sky, vanishing into the clouds.

Jo-Jo clutched Ada’s leg as she looked out on the devastation. The injured Cazador and the fisherman wept beside her.

Plumes of smoke trailed away from the rigs, and a thick layer drifted over the water. Ada coughed as they motored through it.

Water sloshed nearly ankle deep in the boat. But they were almost to the capitol tower—close enough that they weren’t going to sink.

The boat emerged from the pall of smoke, and the airship rooftop came into view under the glow of a rising almost full moon.

Not a single Cazador or militia soldier stood on the docks of the capitol tower.

Boats rocked in the water, still moored where they had been left.

She jumped out when they pulled up, wincing as she landed on her injured foot. After getting Jo-Jo onto the dock, she helped the injured Cazador soldier. The fisherman who had piloted them here tied up the boat, then grabbed a rifle.

Ada wanted to scream for X, but she walked in silence. Her gut told her the king wasn’t here and neither were the Hell Divers.

Helping the injured Cazador with one arm and holding Jo-Jo in the other, she slogged toward the elevator cage. The fisherman went first, with his rifle shouldered. Looking skyward every few seconds, he slung his rifle and opened the elevator cage. Ada and the wounded soldier piled in, but Jo-Jo balked.

“It’s okay,” Ada said, stroking its bristly hair. The monkey trembled against her, letting out a whimper as the cage jolted and jerked upward.

The apocalyptic view took Ada’s breath away. She had been right about returning home to a war—just not the war she had expected.

As the cage rose higher, the fisherman pointed at the eastern horizon. A large vessel had broken through the outer barriers and stood bathed in moonlight.

She recognized the elongated warship. The aircraft carrier had arrived with its defector cargo to finish the job.