Nicholas Smith - Allegiance

Michael thought back to the skin flags he had seen aboveground. He had seen something similar at the fuel outpost, but they also looked like what the defectors left behind in Jamaica.

If the machines weren’t here, then it could only be…

“Skinwalkers,” he whispered.

These naked men had to be part of Horn’s group.

Michael crouched and brought up his laser rifle, zooming in on the biggest of the guards. The guy was a brute, easily Rhino’s size. He held a long needlelike blade and walked around Arlo and Edgar, studying them the way a scientist might look at a caged animal.

Zeroing in on his face, Michael saw what looked like stitches in the wrinkled brown flesh, all the way around the chin and skull. It wasn’t just his face. His entire body was covered in the stitched-on skin—even his damn boots.

Before Michael could react, the man jammed the needle blade into Arlo’s side, but Arlo hardly made a sound.

“No!” Michael blurted in a voice just shy of a shout. His voice echoed, turning several heads among the skinwalkers.

He sank back into the shadows, heart thumping against his ribs.

Sofia, still on her knees, brought up her rifle and trained it on the opening in the wall. They waited several moments, but the arrows and excited shouts never came.

He moved slightly for a look farther down the sloping tunnel. It had to come out somewhere, and he had a feeling it wasn’t far.

“We have to do something,” Sofia said.

Michael was glad they were on the same page. He raised his rifle and said, “Let’s kill these demonic fucks.”

She nodded. “Just tell me when to fire, Comm—”

More voices cut her off. These were louder and seemed to come from new people entering the cavern. He sneaked a glance. The six men had turned into twenty, maybe more. Some were wounded, limping along or clutching wounds in their torsos. Others had armor showing through charred, wrinkled skin.

A man with a horn on his helmet strode into the cavern, carrying two axes. Walking past the heart, he raised one of his blades at Arlo and Edgar. The brute with the stiletto reached up and sliced through the ropes around their ankles, dropping them to the ground.

Michael counted another dozen soldiers flooding into the cavern behind the leader with the axes.

“ Siren shit ,” he whispered.

The man with the horn spoke rapidly in a muffled voice. Burned skin hung loosely off his helmet. He wiped a shred away from his eyes.

“What’s he saying?” Michael asked.

“He says to kill the rest of these people and skin them, then head back to their boat. It’s time…” Sofia’s words trailed off.

“Time for what?”

“To go to the Metal Islands and take the throne from el Pulpo,” Sofia said. “He must not know that X is king.”

“We have to stop him,” Michael said.

“But so many…”

“I know, but we have guns and they don’t,” Michael said. “You stay and shoot from here. I’ll head down and fire from the floor, okay?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Thanks for sticking with me,” Michael said. “Good luck.”

“Good luck.”

He squirmed around and moved back down the tunnel. As he suspected, there was another opening in the wall, this one much bigger than the others.

A skinwalker stood on the other side, facing the group of people from the bunker. Michael pulled the knife from his sheath and jammed it through the back of the man’s neck, up into the brain.

He slumped over, and Michael raised his laser rifle, choosing his first target, the big bastard who had stabbed Arlo. He now had an axe in hand and was preparing to bring it down on Arlo’s neck.

Lining up the sights, Michael whispered, “Hello and goodbye, asshole.”

The brilliant line of blue light flashed through the man’s helmet and into the rock wall. He dropped with a thud onto the ground between Arlo and Edgar.

Michael roved to the next target, who was nocking an arrow on his bowstring. The laser ripped through his neck. The next bolt sizzled into another helmet.

In just over ten seconds, Michael had killed four men, but the others quickly homed in on his position. Arrows flew, and gunshots rang out from Sofia’s position.

More gunfire joined the echoing din. Michael cursed their luck. These fuckers had guns too, and that changed the calculus. He expected rounds to start pinging off the wall over his head, but none came.

Not only gunfire but also laser bolts were coming from the other side of the chamber.

Oh, hell yes!

Magnolia and Rodger must have been stalking this second group. That explained why some of them were injured. But where was the rest of their team?

He helped them by laying down covering fire.

The skinwalkers fanned out, launching arrows in all directions. The people from the bunker tried to wriggle away, but they were all bound with rope.

Michael slid down into the chamber and started to cut their bonds. He freed a man and handed him a knife, motioning to cut the others free. The guy understood and went to work.

Another prisoner had already broken out of his restraints somehow and ran with outstretched hands at a skinwalker. The soldier turned and loosed an arrow into the guy’s gray suit.

Michael took the shooter down with a laser bolt that cut his bow in half and flashed through his chest. Then he looked for the leader with the unicorn helmet. He was making his way toward Arlo and Edgar, both axes in hand.

“No, you don’t,” Michael said, firing a bolt that sent one of the axes spinning away.

Screams echoed through the chamber as two skinwalkers ran at Michael with swords drawn. He cut them down with laser bolts; then his gun overheated again.

Michael drew the pistol X had given him and aimed for the leader, but by the time he spotted the man again, his men were trying to pull him away. A third joined in, grabbing him while Michael fired several bullets.

The group of skinwalkers fell in behind them, shooting arrows and guns to cover their leader’s retreat. Michael got down to avoid the fire. He squeezed off more shots, thinning out the rear guard, but they whisked the leader away into a side tunnel.

Across the chamber, another ally had joined Magnolia and Rodger. The tall figure fired an assault rifle, picking off stragglers.

Michael got up and ran over to Arlo and Edgar, changing the magazine of his pistol along the way. When he got to them, Edgar was unconscious, but Arlo was awake. He drooled blood and looked up, his perfect smile ruined by several missing teeth.

“You came back,” he mumbled.

Michael ripped into his med pack and began pulling out dressings to stop the bleeding from Arlo’s side.

“You’re going to be fine, man. Just hang on.”

“I’m sorry,” Arlo said with quivering blue lips. “I screwed up.”

“You screwed up only if you die.” Michael pushed gauze against the wound and taped off the sides. “Just breathe, okay?”

Arlo nodded. “Sir…”

“Don’t talk.”

“But, sir… I really wanted a new nickname.”

“If you live, I’ll give you one,” Michael said.

Sofia ran over to help Arlo and Edgar, giving Michael an opportunity to call in support. He bumped on his comms for the first time on the mission.

“Captain Mitchells, this is Raptor One,” he said. “We need evac as soon as possible. We have multiple wounded, and…” He looked at the survivors on the ground behind him. “… at least thirty people who need transport, over. Maybe a few more.”

“I’m already here,” said a voice.

Michael looked across the chamber, past the glowing floral “heart.” The tall figure he had seen earlier was wearing Hell Diver armor.

“Captain,” Michael said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”