Hell divers x fallout, p.42
Hell Divers X: Fallout, page 42
“Just like old times,” Mags replied. “We’re going to find them, X, don’t worry.”
* * * * *
The airship Vanguard hovered before a towering dark fortress of clouds. Lightning flashed across the massive storm front, making the horizon seem eerily alive. Four days after leaving the islands, they were hovering over Timothy’s first suggested stop: Outpost Gateway at the Panama Canal.
Michael tried to put Rolo and Charmer out of his mind. He had escaped them, and that would have to be good enough for now. Perhaps someday he would return for his revenge, but all that mattered right now was getting his family far away from those sick bastards. To do that, they needed parts for the airship. That meant someone would have to go down to the outpost.
On the bridge, Michael watched the dashboard of instruments with Steve while Layla sat at an idle station with Bray sleeping on her lap. They had shut down all noncritical systems to conserve power, and the ship had limped here for the parts to keep it in the sky. Michael knew that the outpost had the necessary items to repair the water-treatment plant, but it meant putting the airship down. And if that proved unfeasible, they must become Hell Divers once more. First, he needed to scope the scene out from above.
“Take us down, Timothy,” Michael said quietly. “I want an aerial view.”
“Copy that, sir. Please stand by.”
The airship lowered through the gray swirl. Twenty thousand feet . . . fifteen thousand . . . At five thousand feet, the Panama Canal exploded into view. At a thousand feet, it was obvious the outpost had been abandoned.
Scanning the fortified camp, Michael didn’t see anyone moving around the idle construction equipment or on the guard walls.
“What’s that?” Steve asked, pointing.
Timothy dialed in long mounds of disturbed earth, like mole tunnels. They seemed to originate at the canal and ended at the outpost. Dozens of holes had burst through on the other side of the outpost walls.
“The spawn, you think?” Layla whispered.
Michael shook his head, unsure. Whatever had happened was a mystery they could never unravel from up here. He watched the screens closely for a few minutes but saw no sign of the beasts that had come out of those holes.
Perhaps it was safe now.
“What ya think, Chief?” Steve asked.
Michael looked up from the monitors. “I think we put down and scavenge for parts. Starting with that desalination equipment. It should have everything we need to get our water treatment back online.”
“I’ll get suited up,” Layla said.
“No,” Michael and Steve said at the same moment.
“I’ll go,” Michael said.
“Respectfully, I’d prefer that you both stay,” Steve said. “You two have been through enough. Let me go. I know what I’m looking for.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
Steve smiled. “Let me do this. I can handle myself. Just get me on the ground.”
Michael didn’t like it, but with just one arm and a banged-up head, he was in no shape to go. And he certainly didn’t want Layla going.
“Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll be in the launch bay with a gun, watching your back. Timothy, take us down right above the outpost and do a life scan.”
By the time Steve and Michael were suited up in the launch bay, the ship was a hundred feet above the ground.
“All life scans completed,” Timothy said. “Nothing identified.”
“I’m not taking any chances,” Steve said.
He grabbed a shotgun from the weapons locker and slung it over his hazard suit. “Don’t worry. I’m old, but I’m able.”
Michael chuckled. “More than able, I’d say.” He grabbed a pistol with an extended magazine—easy to fire with one hand.
In the launch bay, Steve got into a harness. Michael rigged a rope.
“Ready to go,” Michael called over the command channel.
“Copy. Opening launch bay doors,” Timothy replied.
The dual doors whisked open, letting in a gust of warm, humid wind. Steve went to the edge, turned, and rappelled down. When his boots hit the dirt, he unclipped and gave a thumbs-up, then set off into the compound.
Michael stood in the open launch bay, watching his friend jog away in the green glow of his NVGs. Nothing else moved among the mounds of dirt. He could only imagine what horrors had emerged from those tunnels.
Several minutes later, he was still peering into the darkness when he caught movement. It was Steve, running and waving. He stood right under the airship.
“I found more than we need!” he said.
“Bodies?” Michael called down.
“No, nothing.”
Michael bumped on the command channel. “Timothy, prepare the cable winches to bring up supplies. I’m going down to help Steve load up. Don’t worry, Layla, we’ll be fast.”
“Just be careful,” she said. “Something could still be out there.”
Rappelling down to the surface, Michael couldn’t stop thinking about Rodger and his crew. Something had happened to them, and without the bodies, their fates would remain unknown.
On the ground, Michael unclipped from the rope and drew his pistol. Scanning the area, he followed Steve to the desalination plant. The facility had the most mound and tunnel activity of the entire site. This had to be the work of spawn. But where were all the bodies?
“This must have been during the night, when most everyone was sleeping,” Michael said.
“Horrifying to think about,” Steve said. “They didn’t stand a chance.”
Michael shined his light into a tunnel and saw nothing but some old, withered vines. He listened for activity and, hearing none, began to help Steve disassemble pipes and electrical relays. For the next few hours, they carried the salvage up and stacked it beneath the airship. After rigging a cable harness to their final load, Michael looked out over the outpost.
Wind swept the dry terrain, ruffling the tattered tents and scattering debris. It had been a dream of King Xavier’s to bring this place online. But like the king, Outpost Gateway was dead. With it, Rodger was gone forever—another victim of the wastes.
“Okay, Chief,” Steve said. “We’ve got the loads rigged so the winch can hook them without a ground crew. Let’s get out of here.”
They returned to the launch bay and went through the decon process before finally returning to the bridge, exhausted but happy.
“Mission complete,” Michael said. “Timothy, lower us just above the ground and start winching up cargo.”
“On it, sir,” replied the AI.
“Did you find any sign of anyone?” Layla asked.
Michael shook his head. “Once we get the parts aboard, I’ll start fixing up the ship with Steve. In the meantime, we need to figure out where we’re headed next. Timothy, any ideas?”
“I have an idea.” The voice came from behind them, and Michael turned to see Victor standing in the open hatch above the bridge. Still creaky from the arrow wound, he limped down the stairs to the lower level.
“My home,” Victor said. “We go to my home.”
Michael felt guilty not knowing where that was. “Where is it?”
“Canary Islands,” Victor said.
Timothy pulled up a map of the area.
“This archipelago is located in the Atlantic Ocean, in Macaronesia,” said the AI.
“Just off the coast of northwest Africa,” Michael said.
“We live not on land,” Victor said. “My family live . . . lived on boats.”
“Boats?” Layla asked.
“Yes. A city of boats in a bay.”
“Excuse me,” Timothy said.
Michael ignored the AI. “How come you never told us about your home?” he asked Victor.
“Because my home was broken in a war with . . . ¿Cómo se dice ‘piratas’? . . . Pirates.”
“Like Cazadores?”
“No, these no Cazadores.”
“But you were captured by Cazadores . . .”
“Yes, but first, Ton and me run away from that war on a boat. We came to America shore in search of new life. That is where we get captured.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand something else,” Layla said. “If your home was destroyed—”
“Not destroyed,” Victor said. “There was a resort on the on island once. Built by rich man that owned diamond mines. Underground in volcanic tunnels we find rooms of dried food that could last forever. Ton and I take what we need and go with some of our friends because we afraid the pirates find us. Some friends stay behind. They might still be there.”
“Excuse me,” Timothy repeated.
Michael finally looked over to the AI. “What is it?”
“I am picking up movement on the surface,” Timothy said. “I’m retrieving the last batch of supplies, but we seem to have attracted some attention.”
“People?” Michael rushed over for a look.
Not people. Glowing vegetation snaked out of the holes he and Steve had walked past just an hour ago. Stranger still, it was crawling like serpents, toward the airship and the bundle of pipe now dangling in the air.
“What in the wastes . . .” Layla began to say.
“I’m also detecting a huge spike in radiation,” Timothy said.
“Get us out of here as soon as those supplies are up,” Michael said.
“Finishing in ten . . . nine . . .”
Michael watched as the winch cable pulled the last load—a crate of insulators, electrical relays, and spools of wire and cable.
The turbofans clicked on, and the ship jolted away from Outpost Gateway. Michael stood riveted, watching the strange glowing flora still snaking out across the surface.
“Now we know what happened,” Layla said. “Poor Rodger.”
Michael pushed aside his sorrow for his friend. He had an airship to fix, and they couldn’t do it here. They also had to figure out where they were going after they fixed the ship.
As they rose into the clouds, he felt the weight of that decision. “Let’s put it to a vote,” he said. “All in favor of Canary Islands, raise your hand.”
Victor and Michael both raised their hands.
“If not for Victor, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Layla said, raising a hand. “If you want to try going home, I support you.”
“Thank you,” Victor said.
Steve seemed uncertain. “The Canary Islands is a heck of a long ways. I’ll feel a lot better when we’ve got the ship up and running properly,” he said. “After that happens, you got my vote.”
“Timothy, how about you?” Michael asked.
“I am impartial by design,” said the AI.
“Perhaps Bray would like to weigh in,” Steve said with a chuckle.
But even if the boy could vote, he was sound asleep.
“Okay,” Michael said. “We make the ship airworthy, then head to the Canary Islands. Timothy, find us a place to do the repairs.”
“First we need to get through the storm front,” Timothy said. “We’re completely surrounded.”
Michael went to the front viewports to watch the flashing boil of clouds, an idea already seeding in his mind. “Timothy, try to find a weak pocket that will let us go up and over the storm, like Captain Ash once did.”
Layla looked at Michael. So did Steve, though they both trusted him enough not to question the suggestion.
The AI was less confident. “Chief, from what I understand, Captain Ash performed that risky maneuver when the ship was in much better condition than it is now.”
“I understand that, Pepper, so you’d better find us a nice weak spot to fly through.”
“I’ll do my best, Chief. You’d better strap in.”
Michael helped Layla and Bray into a chair, hoping not to wake the child. Bray babbled and batted his eyes, groggy. He reached out to Michael, then saw the dashboard.
Fascinated by the lights, Bray pointed his tiny fingers at the bright screen. He giggled and waved at Timothy.
Timothy waved back. “Hello, little guy,” he said.
Michael helped secure a harness over his wife and their son. Victor winced as he buckled in. Steve took a seat in front of the weather station.
“Okay, Timothy,” Michael said. “Take us up.”
The viewport began to close, and the front cameras turned on to reveal the brooding storm clouds.
Bray tensed as the entire ship quivered.
“It’s okay,” Layla said. “Just a storm. Rain and thunder.”
“We’re going to be okay, buddy,” Michael said.
The boy looked over to Michael, then back to Victor, and finally to Timothy, who smiled.
Bray smiled back and waved again.
“Keep doing that, Pepper. It’s working,” Layla said.
Bray, thinking it all a game, clapped excitedly.
The airship rumbled and shook, and again Michael questioned his decision. He had to trust in the ship. She had gotten them through many storms before, even when damaged.
He remembered crawling through a tunnel to fix a gas bladder. He could almost feel the heat and the fear. That fear had almost won back then, and it threatened to once again.
“We’re going to make it,” he said. “Pepper, keep us steady.”
The airship rose toward the looming clouds shot through with threads of blue fire.
“Preparing to enter storm,” Timothy said.
The bow pierced the scalloped gray mass, and every joint and rivet of the ship seemed to groan at once.
The monitors flickered. The main lights went off, diverted to emergency red, then flicked back on.
Bray reached out to Michael, his six-tooth smile gone.
“It’s almost over,” Michael said.
Warning sensors chirped as the storm lashed the hull. Thunder boomed, rattling the ancient ship’s bones. Sparks rained down from a loose panel behind them. A fire sensor went off at a station on the second level.
“Got it!” Steve shouted over the alarms. He unbuckled and ran to get a fire extinguisher.
“Timothy, how much longer?” Layla asked, clearly trying to stay calm.
“We’re at thirty thousand feet,” replied the AI. “Only five thousand to go.”
A massive tremor ran through the ship, and Michael knew at once that they had been hit by lightning. Two more alarms popped off.
“Fire in zone three,” Timothy said. “Permission to use the water lines?”
Michael paused. Water spent quenching flames was water unavailable for drinking. They had already lost a fifth of their reserves during the escape from Charmer. But it was either use the precious water now or lose the entire ship to fire.
“Do it,” he ordered.
Bray had finally gotten enough drama and began wailing with gusto. Layla tried to soothe him. Michael answered her worried glance with a reassuring nod, though he wasn’t sure how many more jolts the old warhorse could take.
Steve’s fire extinguisher hissed. The airship lurched, and he staggered but somehow kept his feet till he had stifled the flames.
“Buckle back in,” Michael said.
The lights flickered off completely, and red emergency lights warmed to life, illuminating Bray’s frightened face.
Michael put a hand on his son and prayed, if there was a God and if that God was listening, that they all be spared.
The alarms blared like a Siren streaking in for the kill. Had Michael’s rash decision doomed his family? His heart thudded.
“Thirty-five thousand feet,” Timothy announced.
The monitors flickered. Michael watched them, hoping the ship was through the worst of it. Another violent wind shear slammed the airship Vanguard.
And it was over.
The main lights came back online, then the monitors. Michael unbuckled his harness and stood. Layla spoke softly to Bray, who was pointing at the bright screens, his tears forgotten.
“Pepper, open shutters,” Michael ordered.
“Aye, aye, Chief.”
The metal shutters protecting the glass viewports slid down.
“Stah,” Bray said.
“Yes,” Layla said. “Star.” She motioned for Michael to follow her to the viewports.
Victor walked over with Steve. Both men smiled.
“We’re above the storm,” Timothy confirmed. “Fire in zone three is out.”
“Good work, Pepper,” Layla said.
They all stood at the viewports with the AI, looking out at a dazzling sky ornamented with a brilliant silvery half moon. Michael put a hand on Bray while Layla sang:
“As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are . . .”
Bray pointed at the stars and turned to grin at Michael. The boy was too young to understand where they were going or why.
And to Michael, it didn’t really matter. They were together, and that was enough.
Don’t miss the next installment of the Hell Divers series
with Hell Divers XI coming soon!
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