Hell Divers XII: Heroes by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

Author:Nicholas Sansbury Smith [Smith, Nicholas Sansbury]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2024-08-06T00:00:00+00:00

“Get up, Jorge. You must get up.”

The gentle voice of Jada came over the crashing of waves. Gran Jefe opened his eyes to darkness. He tried to move his arms, but they were stuck. His legs, too, were weighed down by something, as if he were buried.

Gradually, he sorted out the sounds around him. He was on a beach and covered in sand. Waves surged over his trapped body.

He pushed his head up and saw a long shoreline.

He had no memory of how he got here.

Squirming and rocking from side to side, he managed to free his shoulders, then his arms. He pushed himself up from the sand and broke free. Waves lapped the beach as far as he could see. He turned to look out over the ocean, scanning the horizon for any sign of how he might have gotten here. A flash of lightning gave him one clue as it illuminated the hull of a ship on the horizon. There were lights out there, searching for something.

He fell to his back, his right buttock throbbing with pain as everything came surging back over him like the waves on the sand. Memories flashed through his mind: hunting the knights inside the volcano where he was shot in the ass, injured by an explosive shell from the Frog, beaten by a knight, and peppered with shrapnel from a land mine that knocked him unconscious. He had woken, collected his hatchet and some gear, and fled in the sky horse with Frank piloting. Then, just when he thought he might escape in the smoke screen he had created, a missile had taken the bird down.

The final few moments of the crash replayed in his mind, as if he were inside the cockpit now. To his left sat the holographic form of Frank, doing his best to keep them in the air.

“I can’t hold us, Jorge,” he said. “You must bail when I tell you. I’ll get you as close as I can to the island of Saint John, but you’ll have to swim.”

There was no time to protest and tell him that Saint John was an island even the brave Cazador army had avoided—for whoever ventured there never returned.

As the bird lost altitude, Gran Jefe had looked through the shot-up windshield at the mysterious landmass on the horizon. Smoke from the missile impact filled the cabin.

“Do you see that drive in the dashboard?” Frank asked.

Gran Jefe nodded.

“Right before you jump, pull it—that’s my hard drive. But first, listen closely.”

He reached for it, but held back when the AI yelled, “Not yet!”

It was the first time he had heard Frank raise his voice.

“As soon as you pull that, I’ll go offline,” he said. “Do it right before you jump. I would highly recommend removing some of your weight before you bail.”

Gran Jefe stripped off his armor, including his helmet. He tightened his duty belt and slung a pack of supplies over his back as the ocean rose up to meet the flaming bird.

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