Nicholas Smith - Wolves

It was the time to fight.

Minutes later, he was in the hangar bay on Deliverance , and Ensign Ada Winslow reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into the safety of the bay.

Michael looked back down at the USS Zion below, and a wave of energy rushed through him. As soon as he got back to the Hive , he would get patched up, and then he would prepare for the most important part of his life: the fight for the future of his family, his friends, and all humanity.

Mags, wake up.

The nasal voice in her dream sounded oddly familiar, but no face showed itself in the darkness of her mind. She was stuck in limbo between consciousness and oblivion. She had experienced sleep paralysis before, but this was different. This time, she wasn’t stuck in a dream. The voice calling out to her seemed real, but it couldn’t be. The voice belonged to a dead man.

Wake up. Come on. Wake up!

Her swollen eyes opened enough to let in a sliver of sunlight. In the past, she would have confused the view with a dream, but it took her only a fleeting moment to realize that this was real. The fruit trees and the sunlight glinting off the blue-green waters reminded her where she was and how she had gotten here.

“Miles…” she muttered. “Miles, where are you?”

The wet fur that brushed up against her filled her with relief. She reached out and pulled the dog close. His wet tongue lapped at her arm, and she forced her eyes open to see him looking up at her.

The bright rays hitting their cage made her squint. She tasted blood. Reaching up, she felt the goose egg forming on the center of her forehead. A thin line of dried blood ran down her face and onto her exposed neck and chest.

She remembered then. There was the throne made of bone, the metal sculpture of an octopus hanging above it, and the cage to the right.

But the king and his servants were absent. Only one guard was present. He stood facing the cage on the other side of the throne, by the only door she had seen on her way in.

She scanned the rounded platform jutting from the castle. The other soldiers were gone. Beyond the castle, smoke filled the blue skies, threatening to block the sun. She couldn’t see much more. But she knew that X was out there, fighting to get to her and Miles.

She checked the dog for injuries. Blood matted his coat in several places, though she couldn’t tell what was his and what was her own.

“You’re going to be okay, my friend,” she whispered.

Miles whimpered and followed her as she crawled on all fours toward the cage’s barred doors. Something sharp on the floor stuck her palm, and she pulled it back to find a drip of fresh blood.

Her eyes fell on the human bones strewn across the floor.

Her sense of dread grew. The former occupants of this cage had been eaten, and she and Miles were likely next.

The scent of ripe fruit helped her put thoughts of her fate aside for the moment. She crab-walked over to the bars of her prison.

Stooping down under the barred ceiling, she looked out over the platform. She couldn’t see beyond the canopy of trees, but she could see to the right, and what she saw looked like chaos.

At least fifty boats had taken to the water. Some were sailing toward the burning oil rig while others headed for the castle. The gunfire had paused, but she could hear raised voices in the distance.

She pushed her face up against the bars, desperate to see what was happening on the open water. White wakes crisscrossed the ocean like cobwebs.

The carmine bow of a large vessel caught her eye. The ship with the Siren cargo was heading toward a platform in the distance.

A new chorus of voices rang out, then more gunfire. X was getting close.

Magnolia moved to the other side of the cage, but she couldn’t see any better.

As the clamor of voices and clatter of armor grew louder, she looked for something to protect herself with. She picked up a jagged long bone etched with teeth marks.

Miles growled to her left. She looked but could see only the top of the other cage, right of the throne. There was movement inside, and she remembered the body she had glimpsed earlier.

The guard near the door didn’t seem interested in what she was doing.

The shouts and clatter seemed to be coming from several directions. She looked back to the edge of the platform, where cable spooled onto the wheel handle, raising a cage probably filled with Cazadores from the docks below.

She concealed the bone under the sleeve of her tattered shirt, ready to plunge it into el Pulpo’s other eye if she got the chance. Miles barked, but when she turned, he was still staring to her left, toward the other prisoner’s cage.

From a battered, bearded face, large brown eyes blinked at her.

“Mags… is that you?” the man said.

“ ¡Silencio! ” the guard shouted.

The prisoner looked submissively to the soldier.

“ Lo siento, lo siento ,” he said, his voice quavering.

She knew this voice.

“Rodge… Rodger Dodger?” she stammered. “It can’t be.”

The resurrected corpse stood in his cage, exposing the raised scar that snaked across his upper torso. Whoever had stitched him up didn’t have an eye for aesthetics.

The guard left his post, crossing the platform to meet the cable-operated lift.

“You’re dead,” Magnolia said once they were alone. “I saw it happen…”

Rodger’s eyes roved back and forth as he gripped the bars. “You left me, Mags. You and X left me on that ship.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You died in my arms.”

His big brown eyes seemed to narrow as he tilted his head, looking like a puzzled animal. “Did you finally come back for me?”

The guard banged the butt of his spear against the floor, but Rodger held her gaze.

Magnolia scrutinized him for a moment, looking for the clue that this was just a figment of her overworked imagination. But this was no illusion. The only thing missing was his glasses. His dark beard clung to his sunken cheeks.

“We came to avenge you and find the Metal Islands,” she said, grabbing the bars with the bone still in her hand. “I’m so sorry, Rodge. I didn’t know…”

She looked to her right, where the cage had clattered up to the top again. Several Cazador soldiers wearing full body armor piled out, bearing rifles and spears. Behind them was the king himself.

“Do as they say,” Rodger said softly but urgently. “You have to. They kept me alive for a reason, but I’ve seen them kill others… and eat them. These people aren’t who you think they are, Mags.”

He ducked down before she could respond, and Magnolia backed away from the bars, the bone still up her sleeve. She couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. Rodger Dodger Mintel had returned from the dead. But what did he mean about them not being who she thought? They were pirates, cannibals, freaks. That was obvious.

She felt a flood of emotions whirl through her, not the least of them guilt. It was even worse than the guilt she felt for sending Katrina the coordinates for Red Sphere, which likely got Hell Divers killed. She had left Rodger to these monsters—when he was still alive.

But how…? All she knew was that she had been given a second chance to help him. Bending down, she eased the bone back onto the pile. She would heed Rodger’s counsel and bide her time, even if it meant pain and suffering, until X or the other Hell Divers came to rescue them.

Boots clanked on the metal platform, and she turned to look at el Pulpo, his guards, and the robed servants. The king had removed his helmet, and his single eye roved toward her.