The two boats that had started to approach had stalled. She could hear distant voices, all of them quieter now.
Then, over the chug of outboard motors, she heard humming.
“What is that?” a soldier asked.
Ada turned toward the Shark’s Cage but saw nothing. Then she looked out over the ocean. The warriors in the boats were doing the same thing, turning in all directions.
Purple streaks burst from the clouds, and a swarm of spherical craft the size of Siren cocoons rocketed out of the sky.
“Incoming!” someone yelled.
“Fire!”
Gunfire cracked all around her, muzzles winking in the darkness. Laser bolts lit up the darkness like perfect lines of lightning. One hit the boat nearest her, and it burst into flames. The next beam flashed through the sailboat’s deck.
Ada did the only thing she could think of. She sucked in a breath, grabbed Jo-Jo, and jumped overboard. Waves swallowed them, but she kept her grip on the terrified monkey.
The life jackets pulled them back up toward the dazzling flurry of bolts lancing through the darkness. She tried to stay below the surface, using her legs and free arm to push down.
But they bobbed back up.
The sounds of slaughter boomed in her ears. She swallowed a mouthful of water from a wave that slapped against them.
On her back, still choking, she kicked away from the boats. Jo-Jo gripped her tight, digging its nails into her.
Hold on, little friend.
Laser bolts flashed from the drones swooping overhead. Explosions boomed, and glowing metal hissed into the water. An armored body splashed in front of her and sank like a stone.
She finally stopped coughing and rolled onto her belly, one arm around Jo-Jo, the other paddling.
Bolts sizzled into the black water below her. Muffled sounds filled her ears.
She expected a bolt to burn through her at any moment, but only her lungs burned. She kept kicking until she couldn’t.
Pulling her face up, she listened. This time, there was only a humming sound. Water dripped off her visor.
When her vision cleared, fires raged on all the boats. The drones had already flown away, their thrusters flaring as they sped toward the Vanguard Islands.
She was too late.
Treading water, she searched for the Shark’s Cage, hoping to get inside and send a message over the comms. A glance told her it wasn’t going to happen.
The rig burned like a cornstalk. With a loud crack, the top deck of the tower slid off into the water. The splash formed a sizable wave that pushed outward.
She held Jo-Jo, trying to think of what to do as smoke wafted into the sky. Over the crackling fires, she heard what sounded like a motor.
A voice called out. “¡Auxilio!”
Someone was still alive.
Holding Jo-Jo with her right arm, she side-stroked toward the noise, her life jacket keeping her afloat. Amid the burning flotsam, a single boat remained. At the gunwale, a man in Cazador armor fished out the soldier who had cried for help.
Ada swam over as the boatman pulled the soldier aboard. When she reached the rescue craft, she tensed, half expecting the armored Cazador to point a gun at her. Instead, he reached out a gloved hand.
A memory of the Lion’s crew surfaced, and regret tugged at her heart. There was only one way to make up for it.
Ada side-stroked the rest of the way, holding Jo-Jo against her. Reaching the boat, she took the Cazador’s hand, burying the past in hope that together they could help save the future.
When X told Magnolia to meet them in the abandoned shipping yard “when the shit hits,” he hadn’t meant it as an understatement. But the Sirens he and Victor had let out of the electronic fence weren’t just heading into the compound; they were taking off into the refinery.
It wasn’t just skinwalkers they were hunting. The group of ITC slaves had returned after hoisting up the bodies of the Barracuda recon team. X couldn’t see them, but he could hear their guttural screams. The Sirens were tearing them apart.
X and Victor continued through the maze of wrecked boats in the yard, putting distance between themselves and the monsters. Victor carried his shield over his back and led the way with his assault rifle. They passed a boat that was nothing but metal ribs, looking like the carcass of a whale calf.
They made it to the container ship without being seen. By the time they started climbing a ladder to the deck, the outpost sounded like a war zone. Gunfire cracked, and the high-pitched shrieks of the freed Sirens added to the cacophony.
X took up position near the gunwale and glassed the industrial buildings inside the compound. A single steel door had opened, but only six skinwalkers had emerged. That was good.
“Easy pickin’s,” X whispered.
Two of the soldiers didn’t even have their helmets on. Several were still loading weapons, and one had nothing but a machete in hand. The skeleton crew had been caught with their pants down, unaware that their patrols and snipers were dead.
X didn’t need to scan the six to know that Moreto and Horn weren’t among them. No, the cowards would be hiding underground, or perhaps they were on Raven’s Claw. Maybe even a submarine.
X hoped that wasn’t the case. He had to avenge Rhino with his spear. It was the only way for the general to reach his Valhalla.
Determined, X crept along the rusted gunwale of the ship while the cries of the slaughter continued. The staccato of gunfire was followed by an electronic wail from a dying Siren.
He tried not to think of what was happening on the diving mission or back at the Vanguard Islands, or even to Miles and Rodger on the beach. But it was nearly impossible. The only thing that helped was fighting. Merely watching the fighting didn’t help much.
A burly skinwalker strode away from the others, fearlessly approaching twenty prowling beasts in the compound. He raised two submachine guns in his beefy hands. The bastard had packed on weight by feasting on human flesh. But in a few moments, it would be the Sirens feasting.
The skinwalker sprayed the advancing monsters with both weapons, the muzzle flashes lighting up his large frame. The ten beasts in the open charged, and those near the industrial buildings scurried up the walls to the roofs.
A muscular female Siren made it through the wall of gunfire, taking several hits before punching its talons through a skinwalker’s chest armor and bringing him down hard on his back. The beast slammed its head into the man’s helmetless face.
Another female jumped off a rooftop, landing on the back of the man with the submachine guns. He whirled, still firing, his bullets killing one of his fellow soldiers.
The other four men fled while a pack of beasts descended on their two fallen comrades. A dozen more Sirens gave chase, quickly catching up to two laggards.
Hearing their screams, X smiled with grim satisfaction, then looked over his shoulder for Magnolia. She should be here by now.
“You see Mags out there?” he asked.
Victor seemed to understand and looked back the way they had come. A dirt road curved around the compound’s outer walls. It bore fresh vehicle tracks. Weeds the height of a child framed the road. But X didn’t see Magnolia anywhere.
He checked the outpost once more to see the last two skinwalkers being surrounded by the Sirens they had starved. The other beasts were already feasting on corpses or had continued their hunt into the barracks.
The final screams rang out as the pack overran the two skinwalkers. They vanished under a flurry of spines, talons, and veiny flesh. One of the smaller abominations took off with an armored arm. It stopped behind a building where it peeled off the armor as if peeling off the shell of a shrimp to get at the meat.