Wolves

TEN

The bartender glanced up as Michael opened the hatch and entered the Wingman. Some of the passengers called this place a hole-in-the-wall, but to Michael, even that seemed generous. The bar generally reeked like swamp water, and today it was worse than usual.

He saw why when he took a stool at the counter. Marv, the owner and sole bartender, was still cleaning up vomit from last night. A song featuring a talented guitarist from the Old World played quietly from a record player behind the bar.

“You open yet?” Michael asked.

“I am for a Hell Diver,” Marv replied. He put the mop away, wiped his hands on a dingy rag, and turned off the music. Then he grabbed a yellowish plastic jug and placed it on the grimy bar.

“What time is it?” Marv asked, looking over his shoulder at a clock.

“It’s time for a drink,” Michael said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the pull of regret. This was the first time in over a year that he had visited one of the few drinking establishments on the Hive, but he needed something to help ease his anxiety.

“Sure thing, Commander,” Marv said. He set in front of Michael a glass that looked even dirtier than the bar, and half filled it with shine from the jug.

“Thanks.” Michael picked the drink up off the table and held it to the weak light of the orange bulb hanging from a cord.

“It’s an old batch, Commander,” Marv said. He grabbed the rag again and started wiping down the glasses from the night before. “Shine helps kill bacteria. Good for your gut. You don’t see me going to Dr. Huff, do ya? I’m almost sixty years old. Haven’t been sick in years.”

“That’s pretty remarkable,” Michael said. He downed the liquid in a gulp and welcomed the burn sliding down his throat and into his stomach.

“Another,” he said, putting the glass down.

“Kind of early for that kinda drinking, don’t you think, Commander?”

Michael tapped the bar top with the glass. “You going to turn down a Hell Diver?”

“Never have and never will.” The old militia soldier seemed to scrutinize Michael in the light as he poured another glass. Shine sloshed out of the jug, and he wiped it away with the rag, his eye on Michael the whole time.

“Go ahead and say it,” Michael said.

“Commander?”

“I know you want to say something.”

Marv pulled the plastic jug back and continued wiping the bar down with the rag. “Was just having a flashback, is all.”

Michael brought the glass to his lips, took a whiff of the potent spirits, and knocked them back. After the burn subsided, he dragged his sleeve across his mouth.

“Flashback about what?” he asked, squinting from the burn.

“The Immortal.”

Michael carefully set the glass back down. “Ah, well, this used to be his favorite hangout back when my dad was alive.”

“Yep, it sure was. I think I saw X more than his wife did back then. Saw your dad a few times, too. He was a good man.”

“Thanks,” Michael said. He reached for the empty glass again but hesitated. X would have sucked down shots until he was slurring, but his father would have stopped at two. Hell, his father probably wouldn’t have had more than one.

“Everything in moderation,” Aaron had always said to Michael growing up.

He retracted his hand and got off the stool to leave, but Marv reached out. Looking to his right, the bartender checked the open hatch to make sure no one was listening. Then he leaned forward, his sour breath hitting Michael.

“I’ve heard a few rumors about the Sea Wolf. I may just be a washed-up old militia soldier, but I’m not dumb. I don’t believe X is really immortal. He’s a man, and he can die. I just hope it’s not before he finds the Metal Islands.”

Michael held the older man’s gaze for a moment, finally deciding it was safe to reveal some information. “X is still alive, but that’s all I can tell you.”

Marv scratched his gray goatee and then grinned, apparently satisfied with the answer.

Reaching into his vest, Michael pulled out his credit voucher, but Marv waved it away.

“Money’s not good here, Commander. Drinking with a Hell Diver is always an honor.” Marv grabbed the jug and took a swig. The liquid dripped down his goatee and onto his shirt.

“Thanks for the shine,” Michael said. “I appreciate it.” He walked out of the room but stopped in the entryway when Marv called out.

“Whatever demons you’re trying to kill, this ain’t the place to do it, Commander,” Marv said. “Don’t end up like X. Follow in your father’s boots.”

Michael went out into the passage and mixed with the crowd, moving through the main artery of the ship. The alcohol had already taken the edge off, and he had a feeling it was going to help when he showed up at the launch bay.

The new divers, Sandy Bloomberg, Jed Snow, Trey Mitchells, Vish and Jaideep Abhaya, Edgar Cervantes, Ramon Ochoa, and Eevi and Alexander Corey, were already packing their chutes.

Erin, Les, and Layla were supervising, with Erin doing the talking. When Layla saw Michael, she hurried over to him.

“Where have you been, Tin?”

“With Katrina and Timothy.”

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “Is that shine I smell?”

“Yes,” Michael said. He never kept the truth from Layla, even when it might make her angry.

“The data Magnolia sent is that bad, huh?”

Les ran a hand through his ruffled red hair as he approached. “Can you tell us anything?”

“Let’s just wait for the captain. She should be on her way by now.”

Erin continued with her instructions, speaking in what Michael described as her “sergeant voice,” a firm and aggressive version of her late father’s tone.

“You will not leave a single supply behind on the surface. Ever.” She pulled a shotgun shell out of the bandolier on her leg. “Every shotgun shell, every bullet, every parachute, and every piece of gear is important.”

“So is every life,” Michael chimed in.

Erin stiffened when he walked over. “Sorry to interrupt, but I want everyone here to know that ultimately, life is the most important part of diving. If you’re faced with running from a Siren or picking up a dropped shotgun shell, run.”

Vish flicked the gold hoop in his ear. “Sirens? No one said anything about us facing any Sirens.”

“When the time comes to dive, we will avoid areas where Sirens dwell,” Michael said. “But there are other threats down there. Everywhere we go, on every dive.”

He took a moment to scan the group. They all wore red coveralls, but the Velcro square on the breast pocket where a team patch was supposed to go was unadorned for now.

“Carry on, Erin,” Michael said to her. “Our briefing will begin as soon as Captain DaVita gets here.”

Erin licked the corners of her mouth—a habit when she was angry. Michael hadn’t meant to annoy her, but he also didn’t like her macho attitude. What these new divers needed was the truth.

Still, he must give her the space she needed to keep teaching. He walked over to the launch tubes while they waited for Katrina. He ran his fingers over the curved glass of his tube, visualizing the bombs that had once plummeted through the sky and exploded below, incinerating millions of innocent civilians in a war that should never have happened. It was messing with his mind. He still couldn’t quite believe that machines had caused all this.

A voice reeled him back from his musings.

“Tin, I’m really worried about you,” Layla said. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

He tried to affect nonchalance. “It’s nothing.”

“You went to the Wingman, so don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

The launch-bay doors screeched, and Katrina came in. Michael was glad for the interruption.

“Captain on deck,” Les said.

Michael and the other divers all came to attention.

“Listen up, everyone,” Katrina said. “We just received some information from X and Magnolia that’s going to affect you all.”

Michael hadn’t expected this. She was really going to tell everyone?

“Magnolia sent us the coordinates of a military base in Cuba, about seventy miles from our location,” Katrina said. “There is a top secret base called Red Sphere, which we believe has fuel cells, supplies, advanced weapons, and something even more important to our future.”

Layla looked at Michael, her lips open.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered back.

“Sure.”

Michael raised his hand. It was time to intervene. “Captain, I don’t remember hearing anything about this back in your office. When did the information about Cuba come through?”

“After you left,” she replied. “I tried to buzz you, but you were apparently preoccupied.”

His cheeks flared.

“Remember Dr. Julio Diaz?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Red Sphere is where his team took refuge during the Blackout.”

“In the laboratory?” Michael asked. “That’s where you want to send us?”

Katrina brushed one of her braids over her shoulder. “It’s not the laboratory I’m interested in. It’s the boats he claims docked there.” She turned to look at the doors to the launch bay, then back to the divers.

“I’ve decided to take Deliverance and a handful of divers to check this location out. It will bring us closer to X and Magnolia in case they find the Metal Islands, and it gives us a chance to stock up on supplies.”

There was a buzz of hushed discussions.

“What about the Hive?” Edgar asked.

“Will we just leave it behind?” said Ramon.

The captain cleared her throat. “The Hive will remain here, away from the storms, and since most of you are new, this is a volunteers-only mission. Make no mistake, there are storms where we’re going, and there’s no telling what we may encounter at Red Sphere.”

Her eyes flitted back and forth over the group. Sandy was tugging on a lock of hair, her eyes wide. Jed was looking sideways at Sandy and didn’t make a move to volunteer. Jaideep shook his head and kicked the ground, while Edgar and Ramon exchanged a worried glance. Eevi and Alexander both avoided her gaze, and the seasoned Hell Divers all waited to see who else might step up. Katrina’s eyes settled on Vish, who simply stood there looking back at her, unreadable.

“Don’t look at me,” Vish muttered.

“If we don’t have any volunteers—”

A voice from the back of the crowd cut the captain off.

“I’ll go.”

Michael looked over his shoulder at his friend Trey. Trey’s father, Les, standing to the left, slowly shook his head.

“No,” Michael said. “I’ll go.”

“Me, too,” Layla said.

Erin stepped forward. “Better leave this mission to the vets.”

Les looked away from his boy and joined Erin. “Guess that means me.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Katrina nodded. “Okay then, it’s settled. Let’s start moving our gear over to Deliverance. In a few hours, we will start the journey to Cuba.”

“Mags, Mags!” X screamed. He front-crawled to the area where she hit the water. Waves slapped against his face, blurring his view. Several minutes had passed since she fell from the bluff, and he still couldn’t see her.

But he could see Miles. The dog was where they had left him, looking down from the cliff on the edge of the bamboo forest.

Don’t bark, Miles. Please, don’t bark.

The wound on his arm made swimming difficult, and the water leaking inside his suit made the arm burn worse than ever.

But pain, no matter how bad, was just poison leaving his body. At least, that was what he had learned to tell himself back on the torturous journey across the wastes.

Just poison leaving your body, X.

Ah, hell, that was bullshit. Pain sucked, and he was having a hell of a time managing it right now. Seeing Miles and Mags in trouble helped him forget about the fire in his arm, and he kicked harder.

He tried to look through the murky water with every other stroke, but he couldn’t see very far ahead. He could see the shadows on the rocky bottom of the bay, though. It was a cemetery of skeletal vessels, their hulls mostly preserved in the water.

The port must have attracted sailors caught out to sea when the bombs dropped and missiles started flying.

What had happened to the survivors was a mystery, though. Whoever had manned the facility in the jungle was long gone.

X gritted through the pain of his arm and kept up the crawl stroke. He could see something ahead. The waves slapped again, but he caught another glimpse of the object. A human shape, and a helmet… facedown.

“Kid!” X choked.

Oh, shit. Oh, God, no.

He swam the rest of the way as fast as he could. Between strokes, he spotted a mass of feathers that had to be the bird that knocked Magnolia off the bluff.

The creature was dead, floating where it had crashed into the bay.

He pushed on until he reached Magnolia’s limp body.

“Mags,” he said, reaching under her ribs and turning her onto her back. He choked on fear when he saw her helmet full of water. The night-vision optics provided a view of her pale face and dark lips.

Maneuvering onto his back with one arm around her, he began kicking for the shore. That was when he saw the dorsal fin tacking toward them. He almost laughed. The shark had survived a direct hit with a grenade.

We can’t catch a break, can we, kid?

The shark broke the surface, showing what was left of its face. The upper right half, including the eye, had been blown off, exposing muscle and cartilage under the flesh.

It swallowed the floating bird and vanished back under the water. There wasn’t anything X could do but keep kicking away. His blaster would be useless, and his knife wouldn’t do much against a monster that could survive a grenade blast. Besides, he had Magnolia in his grasp, and if he let go of her in the waves, she would be lost.

He wasn’t sure how far they were from shore, but he couldn’t risk a glance right now. Keeping his eyes on the water in front of them, he searched for the fins.

A whistling like a silenced rifle round zipped past, and X flinched at the sight of something cutting through the air. Before his mind could process what he was seeing, it broke through the water and then jerked to the right.

The dorsal fin and back of the shark crested the water. Sticking out of the flesh was a harpoon with a rope attached.

X kept kicking, his brain trying to process what he was seeing. Another spear shot through the air and punched through the shark’s thick hide.

“X, this is Timothy Pepper. Do you copy? Over.”

The calm and proper AI voice was one of the sweetest things X had ever heard.

“Pepper, where in the hell you been!”

“I was following your orders, Commander, but my sensors detected that Magnolia’s heartbeat stopped, and my failsafe overrode that order, reactivating me.”

“Can you move the boat?”

“I’m working on it, Commander.”

X turned toward shore and was surprised to find they were almost there. His feet hit the sand a moment later, and he dragged Magnolia through the surf.

He pulled off her helmet and gently laid her head on the sand.

Thunder boomed, and the distant eerie wail of a vulture answered.

X looked up the cliff, but the dog was no longer there.

“Miles!” he shouted.

He had to make a decision, just as he had been forced to do back on the Cazador ship, when it was save Rodger or save Mags. This time, it was his dog or Magnolia, but he wasn’t sure he could save either of them. Not knowing where Miles was made the decision easier.

X brought his mouth down to her pale lips, breathed into her, and pressed the heel of his hand into her chest rhythmically. He repeated the process, over and over.

“Come on, kid, come on.”

He breathed in again, pushed, and yelled, “Miles, where are you?”

Lightning forked over the bay, casting a glow on the crooked mainmast of the Sea Wolf. The boat cut through the chop and headed for shore.

X bent back down and put his mouth against Magnolia’s lips. He breathed in, moved back, and resumed the chest compressions.

“Come on, kid!”

Before the next rotation, he pulled his knife out and set it beside him in the sand, just in case anything else came along and tried to kill them. Just as he lowered to give Magnolia another breath, her electric-blue eyes flipped open, meeting his in the dim light.

She vomited water, then brought her hands to her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she stuttered.

“Not kissing you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He got off his knees and grabbed his helmet.

“Miles!” X shouted again.

This time, a bark sounded, and X saw movement in the green hue of his night vision. The dog was running up the beach, bounding between rocks and leaping over flotsam that had washed ashore.

X dropped back to his knees in the sand, gripping his injured arm and heaving a sigh of relief. Hearing the crunch and grind of sand behind him, he looked up to find the Sea Wolf beached not fifty feet away.

Magnolia pushed herself up and staggered over to X just as Miles reached them.

“Hell of a day so far,” X said, grabbing his dog and ruffling his coat. He looked over at Magnolia, who looked confused.

“Come on, kid,” X said. “Let’s go grab our gear from that bluff and get off this shit heap of an island.”

“Dad, how long will you be gone?” Phyl asked.

“I’ll be back soon,” Les said, although he really had no way to know.

Both Phyl and Katherine wrapped their arms around his waist. He held them while watching Trey finish packing a faded duffel bag on his bunk.

Katherine, her head against his chest, said, “You take care of Trey. Promise me that.”

“He’s not diving, don’t worry,” Les said. “I’ll dive before he does.”

“And that’s also what I’m worried about,” Katherine said, pulling away. “I don’t want either of you diving. Why do you two have to be Hell Divers? You’re the lieutenant of Deliverance, Les. I thought Katrina said she didn’t want you diving.”

“She did, but things have changed. I’m sorry, Kate. This is my duty now.”

Phyl sniffled, and pulled her tear-streaked face away from his stomach.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he murmured. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Ready?” Trey carried his bag under the one light in their small apartment. His shaved head glistened under the glow.

“I want you back to celebrate your eighteenth birthday,” Katherine said, pointing her finger at Trey and then kissing him on the cheek.

“Stop worrying, Mom. I got Dad to look after me.”

Les smiled, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the nightmare he had just woken from. In it, his son’s chute didn’t open on a dive, and Les was forced to watch the boy cartwheel through the darkness screaming, “Dad, help me!”

“Papa,” Phyl said, snapping Les out of the memory and dispelling the horrid image.

“Yeah, sweetie.” He squatted down to look in her eyes.

“I made something for you,” she said, glancing over at Katherine, who nodded back.

Phyl pulled a yellow knitted figure out of her pocket and handed it to Les.

“It’s a giraffe,” she said proudly.

Les held the small figure in his callused hands. The giraffe’s long neck and legs reminded him of himself.

“It looks kind of like the picture books, right, Papa?” Phyl asked.

“Yes, it does, baby. I love it. Thank you.”

Phyl smiled broadly.

“Good job, sis,” Trey said. “I like it. Did you make me one, too?”

She wagged her head. “No, but I will if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Trey slapped his dad on the shoulder. “We better go, Pops.”

“I know.” Les stood up, gave his wife and daughter another hug goodbye, and grabbed his backpack off the floor.

“I love you both,” he said. “Be good while we’re gone.”

“Bring us back something,” Phyl said with a broad smile.

Katherine blew Les a kiss. He smiled, and he and Trey set off from their quarters on the Hive, toward Deliverance. Dozens of people were out in the passageways, and most of them stopped to stare at the two divers.

The boy seemed just as proud at that as Phyl had been about her giraffe figure. He walked with his head held high. It was the first time Les had ever seen his son so proud, and while he was glad to see him happy, he worried that pride might make Trey do something stupid.

He needed the boy to understand that this duty wasn’t for admiration. It was for the ultimate stakes: the future of humanity. Les would not let his son become a statistic.

Two militia guards stood at the span linking the Hive to Deliverance. Most people had to show their credentials to cross to the other ship, but Les’ and Trey’s uniforms gave them unquestioned access.

“Good luck,” the two guards said almost in unison.

Les led the way across the span, boots clanking on the metal. It was an odd feeling, knowing he would be separated from his wife and daughter again for an unknown length of time.

The hatch closed behind them, and the militia guards on the Deliverance side opened the hatch to let them board. For a few seconds, Les stood between the two airships, looking out the portholes at the darkness beyond.

As soon as the hatch opened, he ducked under the overhead and stepped onto Deliverance, where he slung his backpack over his shoulders. Inside were several of his favorite possessions: a water bottle, a handheld music player with connecting earbuds, his tool belt, and a science fiction book about an alien invasion.

The speakers built into the overhead flared to life with a clinically calm automated female voice.

“All noncritical personnel, please make your way to the Hive. Deliverance will undock in twenty-one minutes. Thank you.”

Those who hadn’t already disembarked were moving away from the new wing, where hundreds of people had been relocated. Empty paint buckets and hog-bristle brushes were left behind, the paint still drying on the bulkheads where children had been painting colorful murals.

“I don’t want to leave, Mama,” said Jimmy Moffitt.

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” his mother replied. “This is only for a little while.”

Many of the people carrying bags away from the open hatches were former lower-deckers. Militia guards walked alongside to escort them back to the Hive.

“We don’t want to go back there,” grumbled Justin Kraus. “You’re going to throw us out like trash again?”

“This is only temporary,” replied one of the guards.

“How do we know that?” asked a woman who had stopped in the passage, clutching a baby to her chest. Les couldn’t see her face, but he assumed it was Marla, one of the farmers.

He stopped in the passage and motioned for Trey to wait.

“I assure you, this won’t be long,” Les said.

“We’re going to dive and bring back stuff for you guys, don’t worry,” Trey added.

Les sighed under his breath. His son was eager to prove himself, but making promises like that was only going to get him in trouble.

“You’re probably going to die, and then we’ll lose our new home,” Justin muttered.

Trey stepped forward, but Les subtly put a hand on his wrist to keep his son back. The other thing the boy needed to learn was patience.

“The ship will be back soon,” Les said calmly. He stopped short of making any promises he might not be able to keep.

“All noncritical personnel, please make your way to the Hive,” echoed over the comm system.

Justin and the other passengers looked up at the bulkheads.

“Let’s go,” said one of the guards, drumming his fingers against the club on his duty belt.

Justin lingered a moment while the others kept moving toward the exit. Then he followed without incident.

Les watched them leave, then continued in the opposite direction until he got to the mess hall, his next stop. It was half the size of the trading post on the Hive, with only twenty white plastic tables. To his surprise, one of them was completely filled with the other divers.

Erin waved at Les and Trey. “We don’t have a feast tonight, but the chicken stew is still warm if you want some.”

Les forced a smile. “Save me a bowl.” He looked over to Trey. “You wait here for me and get some of that food.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Les gestured for Erin to join him away from the others.

“I thought it was just vets on this mission,” he said.

She shrugged a muscular shoulder exposed by her black tank top. “Yeah, but Katrina still wants everyone here. That’s why you brought Trey, right?”

Les shot a glance at his son, who was already slurping down a bowl of soup.

“He wanted to come, and I knew if I said no, he would just get mad.”

“Well, don’t worry, okay?”

“Easy for you to say,” Les said with a grin. “I’ve got to get to the bridge.”

He hurried out of the room as the final warnings played over the comm system. The passages were mostly empty now—only a few stragglers.

Militia guards were checking quarters to make sure everyone had left. Les jogged the rest of the way to the bridge and used his key card to get in.

Captain DaVita, standing at the central table with her palms on the surface, looked up.

“About time, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry, I was saying goodbye to my family.”

She walked over to Dave Connor’s navigation and weather station.

“Report, Ensign,” Katrina said.

He looked up from the monitors. “Not much wind, Captain. Out of the north-northeast at around five knots. Closest storm is a forty-mile front about ten knots to the south. Barometer has dropped only slightly. I’d say we’re good to go, ma’am.”

She picked up a handset off the bulkhead.

“Samson, this is Katrina. Skies look good. How’s everything looking on your end?”

“I’m hot as hell and haven’t taken a crap in three days.”

Dave grinned, but Katrina didn’t seem amused.

“I really wish you’d reconsider this mission,” Samson said. “I told you we’re fine on fuel cells for another six months, and your leaving us means we’ll have to use our turbofans to compensate.”

“This mission isn’t about fuel cells, Samson, and you’re not going to burn much power without us. We won’t be gone long.”

“All due respect, ma’am, you don’t know how long you’ll be gone. Unless something’s changed.”

“Nothing has changed, Samson. I’m still captain, and I’m not in a mood to argue.”

“You put me in charge of the Hive in your absence and until you bring Pepper back online.”

“And?”

“And I’m just voicing my honest opinion, as always.”

Katrina exchanged a glance with Les, who couldn’t quite stifle his grin.

“That’s what I like and hate about you Samson,” she said.

“I know, ma’am. And if I can’t get you to reconsider, well, you have the green light from engineering. I’ll have my teams retract the span between ships.”

“Good. I’ll have Dr. Huff send a laxative to your quarters as a special thank-you.”

Samson laughed at that. “Good luck out there, Captain. May the skies be friendly for the journey and dive.”

She placed the handset back on its hook and patted Connor on the back. Then she walked over to Les and whispered, “I know what you’re going to say, but I don’t want you diving on this mission.”

Timothy gave a final warning over the comms, counting down from one minute.

“Ma’am, I appreciate that, but I think Erin, Michael, and Layla should have a fourth member.”

Katrina played with the end of one of her braids. “I’ll think about it.”

“Captain, this is Sergeant Sloan. My teams have cleared Deliverance of all noncritical personnel. You have the all clear to undock.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Katrina said, turning to her crew. “Okay, everyone, that leaves just a handful of farmers, some engineers, us, and the divers.”

Les moved over to the flight dashboard and took the program off autopilot with a punch of a button. Then he grabbed the U-shaped control yoke and prepared for the order that would separate the ships.

“Do it,” Katrina said.

A warning alarm sounded, filling the bridge with the wail that always came before a dive. This time, instead of proclaiming the imminent launch of humans diving to the surface, it signaled the disconnection of the two final bastions of humanity for the first time since they docked together.

“Retracting beams one through five,” Bronson announced.

Five loud clicks resounded through the ship, and a slight vibration rocked the bridge.

“Retracting beams six through ten.”

The sound repeated, and Les slowly guided Deliverance backward using the advanced thrusters under the stern.

“We’re away,” Bronson said.

“Fifteen degrees down angle,” Katrina said to Les. She took a seat in the leather captain’s chair and tapped her credentials onto the screen next to her.

Come on, sweetheart, be good to me, Les thought as he watched the Hive pull away.

The main monitor fired, and an image of his home came online. Les alternated his gaze from the view to his screen as he continued backing Deliverance away. A violent vibration shook the airship. He held the controls steady.

“Slowly, Lieutenant,” Katrina said.

Deliverance groaned again as it canted downward at a fifteen-degree angle. His eyes went back to the main screen, where a view of the Hive was captured in Deliverance’s frontal high beams. In the glow, he could see all the scars of the Hive’s two and a half centuries in the sky.

His wife and daughter were there, and though he had his son with him on Deliverance, Les still felt as if he were leaving a piece of himself behind as the ship pulled away.

“Goodbye, my loves,” he whispered.