Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

Rodger let out a high-pitched wail as he hit the ground and began sliding. Magnolia tried to grab the raggedy shoes of the nearest corpse.

“Timothy, you have to calm down,” she said. “You’re going to kill us all. That’s not what you want, is it?”

She reached out and put a hand over his. It slipped through the holographic projection. “What was her name?”

That got his attention.

“Susan,” Timothy mumbled, still grasping ferociously at the flapping sheet that half-covered his wife. “We called her Susie Q.”

“Susan wouldn’t want you to do this, would she? She’d want you to save us.”

The ship continued to plummet through the air without slowing. Cracks and groans echoed throughout the cargo bay like snapping bones. The ship was advanced, but it wasn’t designed for a free fall. It would take only forty seconds or so to hit the dirt at this rate, and they were still picking up speed. Magnolia found it more and more difficult to move. It was almost like diving.

“Three thousand feet, and we’re picking up speed!” Rodger shouted, his voice distant.

“Threat level severe,” said the female voice. “Please evacuate.”

The Klaxon wail was almost drowned out by the roar of wind.

“Timothy, please,” Magnolia begged, her entire body shaking. “Susan would not want this. She would want you to help us.”

“Two thousand feet!” Rodger yelled.

Michael and Layla were crawling toward the table bolted to the bulkhead behind them, but Magnolia knew there was no way they would be able to stop the ship now. Their fate rested in Timothy’s hands.

A flash of motion came from behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Rodger holding out the missing sheet.

“Help me with this!” he yelled.

Magnolia reached out, and together they draped the flapping sheet over Susan’s remains. Timothy’s hands stilled.

“Now, turn the goddamn thrusters back on!” Magnolia shouted.

Timothy tilted his head and looked at her for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten who she was.

The thrusters kicked back on, jolting the ship so hard that Magnolia and Rodger were pressed against the floor.

Pain raced through her knees and wrists, but she managed to push herself up. The ship leveled out and then continued its now-gradual descent, slowly lowering them until they were just above the ground. The thrusters had shut off, but the turbofans whirled below, allowing the ship to hover.

“Threat level stabilized,” said the female voice. The Klaxon shut off, and silence filled the cargo bay.

Magnolia glanced up at her HUD. They were only a hundred feet above the ground, hovering with the turbofans. Outside, the dirt seemed to be moving again. She pushed herself up to find that the brown, swirling terrain wasn’t dirt at all. The turbofans sent air drafts over a brown swampland, blowing ripples out across the sludge-colored water.

Timothy rose to his feet and looked curiously around at the chaos of the launch bay. “What just happened here?” He shook his head from side to side as if he had just woken from a deep sleep.

“You just about killed us, and I just about pooped myself again,” Rodger said. “That’s what just happened.”

“Holy shit,” Layla said, breathing heavily. She wasn’t looking at Timothy—she was looking out the open cargo door. Michael joined the three divers on the platform next to the corpses.

Below, the swampland seemed to stretch forever. A beeping sounded behind them, and Magnolia turned to see the monitor on the table across the room flashing, red dots moving across the translucent LZ.

Michael raised his rifle. “Everyone on alert. We’ve got company.”

Les Mitchells bent down to clear the low bulkhead over his daughter’s bunk. It wasn’t the first overhead his skull had gone to war with, and he had the scars to prove it. The worst was from getting knocked unconscious by a pipe when he was a gangly six-foot-nine teenager. Since then, ducking had become part of his daily routine.

“Daddy?” Phyl whispered as he leaned down. She opened her eyes and let out a moan, rolling over in her bunk to look at Les.

“Hey, sweetie, I’m sorry if I woke you. I was just going to give you a kiss goodbye.”

“What time is it?”

“Five in the morning,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going to work?”

“Yes, but I’ll be back tonight and I’ll bring you a treat.”

“What kind of a treat?” Phyl said, trying to sit up.

Les brushed her long brown hair from her face. “It’s a surprise.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

He kissed her again on the forehead, his heart hurting at the thought of her in pain. She had no idea he had joined the Hell Divers. She thought he was heading to his old job as an electrician.

A cough rang out, filling the small quarters. Katherine, his wife, broke into a fit, her lungs crackling with fluid.

Les pulled the sheets back up to Phyl’s chin. She was tall already, and at only seven years old, she had a long way to go.

“I’ll see you later, baby girl,” Les said. Ducking down, he walked across the room and sat in the chair by his wife’s bed. There was a glass of water on the bedside table, and he handed it to her. She drained half of it as she gradually regained her breath.

“Looking good, Les.” She coughed with a hand over her mouth. “I like the uniform.”

Les looked down at his red coveralls and smiled. He held out his arms to show how the sleeves came halfway up his forearms. Then he raised a leg to show off his ankles.

Katherine smiled and took another drink of water. She was a petite woman with blue eyes, dirty-blond hair, and a contagious smile. Les was the towering gentle Giraffe, who had charmed her when they were just kids. Back then he had fallen for her hard, and his love never wavered over their fifteen years of marriage. In his eyes, she was and always would be the most beautiful woman on the Hive , even though the illness had robbed her of her youth and vitality.

Katherine brought her hand up and coughed into her sleeve again, holding his gaze in the candlelight.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said. “We’re going to get you medicine, and we’re going to get Trey out of the brig. I promise.”

“None of that will matter if you’re dead,” Katherine said. She lowered her voice so Phyl couldn’t hear. “We can’t go on without you.”

“You have to trust me.” Les looked away, guilt setting in. He still hadn’t told her they were planning on diving tomorrow. “Jordan promised me medicine. Once you’re well again, you can go back to work. If something happens to me, you can at least take care of the kids.”

“Stop it,” Katherine said, reaching out but stopping just short of touching him. “You can’t leave us. I won’t let you.”

He smiled at that. She was still strong—even now, despite being thin, sick, and exhausted. Her eyes softened, and she pulled her hand back.

“Daddy, will you read me that story about trains?” Phyl asked.

“In a minute, baby.” Les kept his focus on Katherine. He hated to see the love of his life suffering. It also made him even more determined to learn the ins and outs of diving, so he could stay with his family. Nothing, not even a bolt of lightning or a swarm of Sirens, could yank him from this world.

“How many dives do you have to do before they help us?” Katherine whispered.

“Daddy, I have the book.” Phyl held up a blue hardcover with the picture of a train on the cover. The images had always disturbed Les. What kind of person drew a human face on a train?

“Be right there,” he said, turning back to his wife.