Nicholas Smith - Hell Divers

Magnolia shrugged. “Not like we got a lot of options here, right?”

“Right,” Murph said.

X motioned them inside, hoping he hadn’t made a terrible decision. They all had been rattled by the dive, the Sirens, and Tony’s death, but they had only a few minutes to get it together.

Magnolia and Katrina crowded around the supply boxes with Weaver while X and Murph sealed the door.

Weaver took a seat on the cracked rim of a shit can. “Sorry about your friend,” he said, “but I told you to power down. I told you to run.”

X rested his assault rifle against a wall and sat on the ground, facing the others. He sucked down some water from his straw. There was nothing to say that would bring Tony back.

Weaver flipped his visor, and X saw his face clearly for the first time. Thinning, sweaty fair hair clung to his forehead; dark circles lined wild green eyes that darted back and forth on hypervigilant high alert.

“Radiation’s minimal here,” Weaver said. “You should all take in some extra nutrition and refill your water bottles. I’d add some chems to it if I were you. Never know when you’re going to need the extra kick.” He lit an emergency candle, dripped some wax, and stuck it on the floor. “The shield protecting the reactors is still intact. I haven’t detected any major leaks.”

X checked his minicomputer. The reading wasn’t exactly minimal, but it was lower than he had seen in this godforsaken place. It wouldn’t hurt to have their visors popped for a few minutes. He nodded at his team.

“You sure?” Murph asked.

“Your call,” X said, flipping up his visor and sucking in his first unfiltered breath of Hades. The sharp, cold air burned inside his nostrils. He picked up a variety of smells—the vapors of spilled chemicals and the strong scent of smoke. There was another smell, too, vague but unmistakable: the stink of charred flesh.

“Here,” Weaver said, holding out a handful of chem pills.

X took the chems, twisted the cap off his water bottle, and dropped two of the pills into the water. Then he shook the bottle and took a big gulp. He closed his eyes and waited for the stimulants to work into his system. He opened his eyes with a sudden burst of energy, scanning the room as his pupils dilated.

Weaver pointed at the boxes in the corner. “I recovered some food from your supply crate. Help yourself.” He brought a shaking hand to his mouth and bit the end off a stick of jerky.

Maybe it was partly from the chemicals, but somehow, Weaver offering them their own food rankled X. “We don’t have time to eat,” he snapped, his breath fogging as he spoke. “The Hive is up there, and they’re counting on us to come back with cells and pressure valves.”

Weaver glanced up sheepishly, like a child being scolded, then looked at the floor. X couldn’t begin to understand the horror Weaver had been through, but they didn’t have time for niceties. He had questions that needed answering. He went over and crouched in front of Weaver, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

“Weaver,” X said. “You with me?”

The shortest of nods told X he was listening. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I appreciate you saving our bacon back there, and I’m sorry about your ship—I really am. But our mission clock is ticking. We have less than nineteen hours to get back to the Hive .”

“I understand,” Weaver murmured. “I’ll help you if I can.”

X pulled the map from his vest and held it in front of Weaver. “We need to get to this location… right here.”

Weaver swallowed a chunk of jerky and squinted. The low glow from the candlelight lit up his pale face, but he didn’t say anything.

“Have you been there?” X asked.

Weaver muttered as if he didn’t know what X was talking about. He took a sip from a straw in his helmet, then nodded. “Jones and I raided one of those buildings, but he didn’t make it back outside. They ate him.”

“I need you to show us the safest path there.”

Weaver let out a sad laugh and looked up from the map. “Safe? No such thing. And even if you do make it there, the Sirens nest in those buildings. You won’t get close to what you’re looking for.”

An electronic-sounding wail broke over the howling wind. A warning.

Weaver dropped his finger and continued chewing with his mouth open. “Sirens are out hunting again.”

X snapped his fingers a second time. “Forget the creatures for a goddamn second. We need your help. We’re only here because of Ares— because of Captain Willis’ SOS.”

A moment of clarity washed over Weaver’s face. The words meant something to him. He glanced up and said, “I’m sorry.” Then he hugged his knees and went back to his nervous shaking.

X closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. His thoughts drifted to the Hive and Tin. He had managed to clear his mind for the entire dive, burying his worries about the gunfire he heard as the tube opened. But those worries were beginning to resurface.

He pushed the map back at Weaver. “Please. Just take a look.”

Weaver snatched it from his hands and held it close to the candlelight. “This building?”

“Yes. That’s the one we’re looking for.”

“I never made it inside that one. Couldn’t crack the access codes.”

X jerked his chin toward Murph and Magnolia. “That’s why I brought them. ”

“If I couldn’t hack the system, I doubt they can.”

Murph patted his vest. “I brought something along that can hack anything.”

Weaver shrugged and continued rocking.

“If you couldn’t get in, then maybe the Sirens couldn’t, either,” Katrina said.

“Yeah,” X said. “That’s our best shot.” He stood and put a hand on Weaver’s shoulder. “Will you take us there?”

Weaver tore off another bite of jerky and chewed furiously. “I suppose I could sit around here and wait to die. But I’ve been trying to die for days now. Not exactly working out the way I thought it would.”

X couldn’t help but grin. In many ways, the man reminded him of himself: too stubborn to die, try though he might. He had to like the guy, even if he was a bit crazy.

“All right,” X said. “Gather round and relax for a few minutes. Weaver’s going to show us where we’re going. Then we move out.”

The divers crowded around the candle as Weaver and X planned. Murph, Katrina, and Magnolia waited in silence, their frightened eyes tracking the shadows and flickering light inside the small room.

It wasn’t long before the lonely, maddening wails of the Sirens began again, drawing closer. And somewhere four miles above, the Hive waited for X and his team to pull off a mission that seemed more and more in need of a miracle.

Captain Ash kept her hand on the armor of the Militia soldier in front of her as they inched through the tight passage. They moved at a frustratingly slow rate, but it was the only way into the farm besides the front entrance. The corridor opened up behind the livestock pen. If they could get in undetected, they could take out Travis or whoever else had the assault rifle.

The second strike team would still be waiting outside the first-floor entrance to the farm. The distraction might give her sharpshooter a chance—and without the risk of firing a bullet. Each of the soldiers carried a crossbow. The arrows would slice through flesh but would never make it through the wall to the gas bladders. Her main concern was the danger, to both the ship and the hostages, posed by return fire.

“In position, Captain,” Jenkins said.

Despite her confidence in the soldier, Ash’s heart was racing out of control. She craned her neck around the soldier in front of her. Light seeped under the warped hatch cover at the opposite end of the tunnel. The team awaited her final orders.