Up From The Deep Vaughn Jackson (book club suggestions TXT) 📖

as whatever strange science brought her into existence continued to knit her back together. Her face was hardly recognizable, stripped of flesh almost down to the bone. Greenwood watched with morbid fascination as flesh and scales began to reform across the wound.

“Amazing,” the pilot said.

“It really is,” Greenwood said. She changed communication channels. “Gunner, are your choppers ready?” She looked out the flanking windows and saw three squads of four helicopters each, carrying the massive steel brackets. There was enough space between each set of helicopters that Inkanyamba would at least have to sweep with her head to take them all out in one blast.

“You goddamn bet they are,” came the distinct drawl. “Time for horseshoes round two.”

“Tungsten, how’s the ground looking?”

“A steady roll. We have visual on the crater now. Looks like mama’s stirring,” he said.

Greenwood peered out at the crater and saw Inkanyamba’s head rise, glaring at their approach like a rattlesnake on the defensive. Greenwood swallowed hard. A single lightning blast would wipe me out right here and now. Her heart dropped as Inkanyamba’s jaw stretched wide, her chipped and jagged teeth sparking with electricity. Even in the cockpit she could feel the static gathering in the air…

Inkanyamba choked and screamed out in agony. Lightning wreathed its way around her body, and she seized before slumping back down into the water. Her breathing came in hard, fast gulps and foam gathered at the corners of her mouth.

“The hell was that?” Gunner’s voice crackled through the radio.

“I have no clue,” Ashleigh admitted, “maybe the bomb did some internal damage that hasn’t been repaired yet.”

“Well color us lucky bastards today,” he said. “Ain’t gonna look a gift eel in the mouth.”

“Right,” she said. Watching the creature writhe in pain, Greenwood felt a pang of guilt. Inkanyamba didn’t ask to be this way. She knew they had to kill her, but in that brief moment, it didn’t seem fair. Raymond’s comments on violence rang in her head. “Damn it.” Greenwood steeled herself. This is the only way.

“Bunk,” she said, switching channels one more time. “How’s our piece de resistance?”

Silence.

“Bunk?” she asked again.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Bunk said in his unfailingly even tone. “The sailors on this ship are not so easy to work with despite all that hangs in the balance.” Someone chattered in the background, but Greenwood couldn’t make out what was said. “Yes, you have to fire them all at once,” Bunk said to the unknown voice, irritation just barely evident in his own voice. “Just one leaves a window for escape.” A pause. “Do you want the monster to escape? No? I didn’t think so.” More muffled conversation. “Lieutenant, are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“The ship’s railguns are primed and ready to fire. All of them. Six tungsten piledrivers at your service,” he said, then after a short pause added, “but they won’t let me push the firing button.”

“It’s protocol. Don’t let it get to you.”

“I understand, I’m just disappointed.”

Greenwood opened all channels. “All aspects of Operation Red Sun are in play, prepare to strike.”

Inkanyamba hadn’t stirred since her failed electrical strike, but she watched them with reptilian eyes that calculated their every move. Just as Greenwood was about to give the order to begin, a panic of chatter came through the radio headset. It was Tungsten.

“We’re under attack down here,” he shouted. “Unmarked soldiers in all black. Face masks with red goggles.” The explosive sound of gunfire roared over the headset. “At least thirty of them. They’re aiming at the dehydrators. We outnumber them, but the ambush…”

Tempest. Greenwood clenched her teeth. The ground force had sixty fully trained soldiers on guard. “Continue your advance,” she ordered, “take out or repel the enemy. This mission cannot fail.”

But if they knew of the plan, and attacked the ground force…

The roar of a jet fighter made Greenwood snap her head up. The sleek black craft roared out in front of her helicopter and began to turn to face them.

Shit. All of their fighters and gunships had been destroyed in the skirmishes with Inkanyamba. There was no one up here to defend them. With the steel brackets suspended between four helicopters there was no way to take evasive action. They were all sitting ducks.

A high-pitched whistling noise caught Greenwood’s attention. She barely saw the rocket blur past before the fighter jet erupted into a ball of flames. The wreckage spiraled downward, slamming into the devastated remains of a skyscraper, bringing the whole building down on top of it.

“Lieutenant, didn’t I impress upon all of you the importance of stopping Tempest?” The voice that came through her headset was modulated to sound deep and robotic.

“Who the hell?”

“The men who are still loyal to me are on the ground as we speak. They will stay on as supplemental escorts.”

“Kurtis?”

The robotic voice sighed. Something clicked and Kurtis’ regular voice said, “Did you consider that maybe I did the voice thing for a reason?”

“You stuck around?” Greenwood asked, ignoring his irritation.

“Sadly, no. Some people wanted me dead, and that doesn’t fit in with my schedule at the moment.”

The source of the missile from earlier made itself visible. Six fighter jets, two for each of the three squads of helicopters, descended from the cloud coverage above and rushed past, circling back around to fall into sequence alongside them. Each jet bore the symbol of a black hand with a blue, open eye in the palm. The pilots wore all black, and made no motion to acknowledge her, keeping their eyes dead ahead.

“This doesn’t change what you did,” Greenwood whispered into the headset.

“Did I ask for redemption?” came the cold reply. There was a loud click, and static buzzed through the headset. Greenwood switched channels to hear Tungsten panicking on the other end.

“I’m here, Tungsten.”

“Those soldiers I told you about, well—”

“More soldiers appeared and eliminated them?”

“Yes, and now they’ve encircled us but haven’t fired. We were waiting to hear from you and—wait how did you know?”

“Those men are—Are what, Greenwood? Not a threat? On our side? Neither of those