Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

“On your feet, Giraffe,” he said.

Together, the divers stood on the concrete pad, watching the pod sink with most of their weapons and gear—and Jennifer.

Les kept telling himself there wasn’t anything he could do for his friend, but it didn’t work. If he wanted, he could jump in and try to pull her out of the sinking vessel. Instead, he watched in silence—a coward abandoning his teammate in a hostile wasteland.

Michael awoke to darkness. He tried to sit up, but a hand pushed down on his chest. His muscles were tight across his back, and raw pain shot up his leg. He held back a groan and struggled against the hand holding him down.

“Easy there, Tin. You’re safe.”

Layla’s sweet voice soothed him, but he still had to grit his teeth against the pain as he lay back on the hard mattress.

“Where is he?” Michael asked.

“Who, X?” Layla said. “He’s outside with Rodge and Mags.” She turned on a lantern by the bed and smiled at him in the glow. He reached up to her freckled face with the back of his hand, running it over her soft skin. He had almost forgotten how beautiful she was without a helmet on.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” he whispered. He pulled his hand away and closed his eyes for a beat, trying to remember what had happened to him. The last thing he could recall was X jamming a needle into his leg. Everything after that was a dark blur.

“You’ve had two close calls. I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“A kiss would be a start.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, holding them there for a moment before sitting back in her chair. It figured that the first time they were alone together in ages, he was too banged up to do anything about it. He looked down at his bandaged leg to assess the damage, wondering whether he would even be able to walk.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said. “We got you all stitched up and we have you on a strong regimen of antibiotics. X also used something to neutralize the poison.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Twelve hours,” Layla said, looking at her watch. “Give or take.”

“Has anyone contacted Timothy?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you to wake up. X strongly urged against sending any radio transmissions.”

“Now that we’ve found X, we should get moving. Wait… Why did he say not to send any transmissions?”

“I’ll let him tell you.” Layla frowned as he tried to sit up. “Seriously, stop moving. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine. I need to get up and talk to X about—”

A distant screech cut him off. A dog’s growl followed. Next came the zipping of a plastic curtain, and the creak of the bedroom door opening.

“Layla, get out here,” Magnolia called out.

Michael managed to press his back against the wall and use it as a brace. “What’s going on out there?” he said, trying to get a view.

“Sirens—lots of them,” Magnolia said. “And the floaters.”

“Floaters?” His eyes darted to Magnolia, then Layla. Noise came from the adjoining room and Rodger poked his head in the open door.

“Hey, he’s awake!” he almost shouted.

“Keep your voice down, idiot,” X growled, coming up behind the group.

Michael had to chuckle, although it hurt. The angry old man in front of him was the same X he remembered from a decade ago.

“Honestly, I expected you to be the blabbering idiot,” Michael said. He shook his head, smiling incredulously at the sight of the frail yet strong man in front of him. “I can’t believe you survived down here all these years.”

X ran a hand over his short-cropped hair but didn’t return the smile. For a second, he simply studied Michael, as if trying to remember something. Then he walked over to his bedside and knelt down. He slowly reached out and flicked Michael’s shoulder-length hair like a dirty piece of laundry.

“I’m still picturing you with your tin hat, kid. What’s this dog tail?”

Yup, this was definitely the X that Michael remembered from his childhood. The man who was always busting his father’s chops and who could always be trusted to speak the brutal truth. The warrior who never stopped fighting. He had saved them out there on the street, and he had saved Michael from the envenomated bite wound on his leg.

But X had paid dearly during the decade-long battle for survival. His voice sounded as if he had been smoking homemade cigarettes every day of his life, and scars covered his flesh like macabre tattoos.

“Help me up,” Michael said. “Let’s go talk in the other room.”

X grabbed Michael’s hand and squeezed it, then helped him to his feet. Before X could protest, Michael wrapped his arms around the legendary diver. In that moment, he felt less like a strong warrior and more like a feeble old man.

Michael pulled back, scrutinizing X up close. Behind the ragged beard were hollow cheeks, and wrinkles and scars formed ravines across his forehead. He looked far older than his fifty-five years.

They made their way into the living area outside the bedroom. Michael limped but managed to walk without support. He needed to prove to the others he was okay to leave this place. They had to get back to Deliverance.

X took a seat in a chair, and Miles sat on his haunches beside him while the other divers sat around the metal table in the center of the room.

“Where do we start?” Michael asked, sighing.

“You can start by telling me why you’re here,” X said.

“For you,” Michael said. “When we found out about your transmissions, we raced to find you. I’m so sorry, X. We didn’t know you were down here all this time.”

X didn’t say a word—maybe because he didn’t believe him, maybe because he was waiting to hear more.

“Captain Jordan knew about your transmissions but kept them a secret,” Michael continued.

“Captain Jordan ?” X asked. “What about…?”

“Captain Ash passed away from throat cancer not long after you were left behind. If she had known you were alive, she would have rescued you. But Jordan…”

X reached up to touch the scar on his neck.

“Bastard,” Magnolia growled. “I’m going to kill him.”

X lowered his hand from the scar and stroked his dog’s head calmly. Michael wasn’t sure what to expect, but the man seemed to be taking the news rather well.

“If he got my messages, then why didn’t he send someone to find me?” X asked.

Magnolia looked over at Michael, clearly eager to talk, but Michael had to be the one to tell X. It was his responsibility.

“Katrina,” he said, locking eyes with X. “Jordan and she were together, and she’s pregnant with his child. I think he was still jealous of you.”

X didn’t say anything, and Michael couldn’t read the expression on his weathered face. If the news shocked or upset him, he didn’t show it.

Michael hurried to fill the dead air. “I also believe he was relying on your messages to find places to raid. So in a way, you were still helping the Hive all these years.”

The old diver’s lips tightened into a grimace, and his nostrils flared. After a moment, his features returned to normal, and X looked over at the black sheet covering the balcony.

“Enemies in all directions,” he said. “The sky, the land, and the sea.” Silence filled the room until he cleared it with a sigh. “I’m not worried about that chickenshit Jordan or the Sirens. It’s the floaters that are the problem.”