The entire jungle seemed to light up in a bright glare of the missile blasts.
Timothy was giving the machines much more than just a distraction. The AI was giving the other AIs a beating.
Michael and Sofia made it to the boulder, and they all slid down the hill.
Arlo was at the bottom, standing now.
“This way!” Lena said.
The team headed into the ravine and toward a slope up. As they climbed, a view of the white-capped mountain rose in front of them.
It took a few minutes to work their way up through thick bushes and spiky plants. At the crest of the hill, they could see the burning jungle and the ground scorched between it and the fortress. Twisted remains of machines littered the smoking dirt.
A humming sound came from above. It wasn’t a drone.
Les looked up and saw the outline of Discovery. He raised a hand, knowing that Timothy couldn’t see him.
As if in response, another salvo of missiles tore through the clouds and slammed into the fortress wall, opening gaping holes.
“Now’s our chance!” Michael yelled. “Let’s go!”
THIRTY-SEVEN
The little catamaran had slipped ahead of the aircraft carrier in the darkness, but time was running out for Ada to reach the Vanguard Islands and warn King Xavier about the machines.
In a few hours, her sails would penetrate the barrier between dark and light. The only saving grace was that the machines had slowed and stopped their ship. Planning their attack, or waiting for orders.
She remained on the weather deck, holding the wheel and wearing one of the life jackets she had found inside the cabin. The protection helped her manage her anxiety, although it was building again. With each wave her hulls thumped over, the anticipation grew. She had endured hell in the wastes, but that would all be a walk in the park, as they used to say, if the machines reached the islands.
She turned for a parting look at the aircraft carrier, but she had sailed out of view.
A pounding sounded below.
Jo-Jo hammered at the hatch, wanting out of the cabin. The monkey’s constant slamming was grating on her nerves, but she couldn’t go and check on it now.
The black wall ahead seemed to lighten, or perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on her. According to her wrist monitor, she was still at least twenty miles from the barrier.
Ada took one hand off the wheel to use her binoculars. Holding them to her cracked visor, she raked them over the waves, stopping on a shape that jutted out of the ocean.
The sails flapped, hit by a crosswind that shook the boat. She nearly lost the binos over the gunwale. She put them away and grabbed the wheel, trying to keep the craft steady.
Moments later, a blast of lightning stabbed the horizon like a spear from the heavens.
In the glow, she saw a tower on the water.
She remembered then, several oil rigs were outside the barrier. This was where the Cazadores kept their prisoners—a place she could have been sent if not exiled. The Shark’s Cage.
She steered toward it, thrilled at her good luck. They would have a communication system there—a way to radio the king about what was coming. She hoped he was still alive to fight.
Thunder rattled the boat, and another lightning strike fired the horizon, but she kept going toward the rig, undeterred.
A chill ran up her spine when she spotted something over her shoulder. She kept her gaze on that grid of ocean, but after a few moments, she marked it off as a wave.
She still had time.
Before her loomed the oil rig turned prison. The southern side had a marina where several boats were docked.
It had been a long time since she saw another human, and she prayed there were at least a few militia soldiers here, though she doubted it.
Tired, injured, and cranky, she wasn’t in the mood to talk to Cazadores.
Waves slapped at the boat as she sailed toward the piers. She eased off the sails, trying to slow the boat. This was the first time she had ever tried to dock.
All that matters is getting there, even if you destroy the boat.
But if she crashed, that could injure Jo-Jo. She realized then that the pounding below had stopped. Maybe that was good.
Ada put the monkey out of her mind. As she sailed closer, one question consumed her: How had the machines found them?
A cracking sound snapped her away from the implications. The damn monkey was trying to escape.
Ada was locking the wheel when she heard the shattering of glass on the starboard side of the boat. A bundle of dark fur emerged on the aft ladder. Two wide black eyes stared at her.
“You little shit!” she yelled. “Get over here!”
Jo-Jo climbed up onto the deck and clung to her leg.
Ada grabbed the steering wheel again. A wave slapped the port side, dousing them in water. She wasn’t sure Jo-Jo could swim, and didn’t want it to freak out when it saw other humans, especially Cazadores in full armor.
Ada eyed the other life jacket she had found belowdecks. It was out of reach, and with Jo-Jo clinging to her leg she couldn’t nudge it with her boot.
The rig was close now, the docks within view.
Letting go of the wheel, she hobbled over to the jacket, with Jo-Jo stuck like a limpet to her leg. She strapped the creature into the jacket, then hurried back to the wheel.
Right as she grabbed it, a rumbling sounded over the waves, commanding both her and the creature’s attention. The noise was from a motor.
A light blasted the sailboat, blinding Ada and sending the monkey bolting.
“No!” Ada shouted.
She raised a hand to block the spotlight beam. The creature had gone now, retreating to the lower deck.
Another beam hit Ada in the side of the head, forcing her to turn away, and she heard the chug of another motor.
Over the engine noise came shouting, all in Spanish.
A flare streaked into the sky, exploding in a bright-red burst.
In the glow, she spotted multiple small vessels closing in from different directions.
Within minutes, the sailboat was surrounded.
“Lower your sails!” someone shouted in English.
“It’s me, Ada Winslow!” she yelled back. “The machines are coming!”
“Shut up and lower your sails!”
She decided to do as ordered.
Six boats closed in as she slowed her craft.
“There’s something on the deck behind the mast!” someone shouted. “Some sort of…”
Ada turned to look for Jo-Jo but froze when a gunshot cracked.
“Hands up and don’t move!” yelled the same voice from earlier.
“You have to listen to me!” she cried. “There is a ship, an aircraft carrier of machines heading this way!”
No one replied at first.
Then came laughter.
“Hands up. Don’t make me tell you again!”
A voice in Spanish followed—someone giving orders. Two of the boats approached, men on the bows, ready to jump onto her deck. Not just Cazadores. The militia was here, too, and they might shoot her strange companion out of fear.
She raised her hands and slowly turned. “Please! You have to listen to me!”
“We’re coming aboard. Don’t move!”
The monkey whimpered. It was hiding somewhere below, and she had to get to it before the soldiers did. She walked away from the wheel, holding a breath in her chest, waiting for bullets to pierce her flesh.
She made it to the ladder. Bathed in light, she stood there, searching the deck for Jo-Jo.
She found the monkey in a corner on the port side, by a lashed-down stack of crates. She pushed her luck by climbing down the ladder.
Several voices called out to stop her, but no bullets came. She got to the deck and hurried over to Jo-Jo, petting the monkey with one hand and keeping the other hand above her head.