James Axler - Shadow Fortress

“What was that?” Glassman demanded, lowering his plate of beans and dried fish.

“Some kind of baby shark,” Mitchum said, purging the longblaster before refilling it with powder, lead and cloth wad, then carefully tramping down the fresh charge with a blunt nimrod. “Who cares? Just a fish. Ain’t got no brains or human feelings.”

With a shrug, Glassman returned to his meal.

“Ahoy, the captain!” a sailor called out from an aft PT boat, a hand pointing to the sky. “Two o’clock high!”

“It’s them!” Mitchum snarled, lifting his long-blaster, but withheld firing. The weird air wag was bobbing along in the sky without a care in the world. The sec chief trembled with the urge to kill, and had to mentally force his hands to lower the flintlock.

“Well, don’t stand there gawking like virgins in a gaudy house!” Mitchum snarled, stalking along the deck. “They’re getting away! Load the .50 cals! Ready the Firebirds!” Nobody moved to obey the command. The sec chief fumed in his impotence, and bit back words he knew would only get him aced.

“Land ho!” another called in warning. “Breakers at our noon!”

A corporal backed away from the sight. “That’s Forbidden Island!”

“What?” a sec man gasped, spinning in shock.

On the horizon was a long landmass with two live volcanoes. There could be no doubt as to which island that was.

“Nuke me, it is!” Glassman shouted, throwing away his plate. “Emergency stop! Cut all engines!”

The crew rushed to the tasks, and soon the boats were anchored relatively motionless in the waves. Reaching into an equipment box, Glassman pulled out binocs while Mitchum limped to the forward bow.

Illuminated by the silvery moonlight streaming through the rumbling clouds, the men watched as the distant air wag abruptly rose high into the sky, then dropped toward the ground, narrowly rushing over a stone bridge. Cannons roared at their passing, and the air wag disappeared into the darkness beyond.

“Did you see those cannons?” Mitchum growled, fighting a wild mix of emotions. “This must be a pirate base!”

“No,” Glassman corrected, lowering the binocs. “It has to be their main base. This is the home of the pirate fleet!”

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