Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (popular novels .TXT) 📗

“You didn’t bring your gun?” Nowak asked, looking at Summers.

“Didn’t think I’d need it for one night.”

Nowak, Cortez, and even Asle stared at him like he was an idiot.

Summers didn’t see the need to argue, especially as Synel let out a soft groan beside him. She was bleeding pretty badly.

“We need to get back to the ship.” Nowak moved to the stairs. “I can stitch her up there.”

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Summers stepped from the front door of the inn, shouldering Synel. He stopped as they found a dozen men in the street, waiting for them.

“I’m sorry for this.” The chief stood in the middle of the group. Each man had a spear in hand, as well as one who was armed with something like a crossbow. “Surrender, and I can promise you a swift death.”

Two short, precise bursts erupted from beside Summers half a second later. He saw the man with the crossbow, as well as the chief fall to the ground.

“Surrender,” Nowak said in Nos before looking to Asle for confirmation.

She nodded.

The spearmen looked at the now dead crossbowman and the screaming chief. They held for a beat before the first man broke, dropping his spear and sprinting down the street. The others followed soon after.

“Sarge, would you take her for a second?” Summers gestured to Synel. Nowak lowered his gun and moved to shoulder the woman.

As soon as Summers had handed her off, he moved to the chief. Nowak had only clipped the man, but the back of his thigh looked more like a side of beef than anything. The man still tried to crawl backward as Summers approached.

“What are you doing?” Nowak watched as Summers grabbed the chief by the shirt and began to drag him.

“Finding out what’s going on.”

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They arrived at the boat without incident, a few drunk sailors still sleeping on its deck. He watched as Nowak told Asle something, but his mind couldn’t grasp it for some reason.

He was still focused on what happened, on what could have happened. If they’d come for anyone but him first . . .

One of the deckhands stirred as they made their way on board.

Summers tossed the chief to the deck.

“Wake up the captain. We need to leave, now.”

The deckhand gaped at him for a moment before his eyes fell on the chief. Something in his drunken mind must have clicked, as he took off toward the captain’s quarters.

Summers watched as Nowak laid Synel gently down on the deck before heading to the small storage area below deck, Asle in tow.

Seeing Synel lying there sent a cool anger boiling up inside him.

“Please.” The chief held up a hand, clearly sensing something. “I only did this to protect my people.”

“And how is that?” Summers moved toward the man.

“We’re starving. Our fishermen can’t leave the shore, and we have no hunters, no trade. We’ve tried to appeal to the city, but . . .” He gestured to the ocean. “The beast, it attacks any ships we send.”

Summers stared back at the man, dumbstruck.

“You did this for our food? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Whatever you could spare would not have been enough. Even if you were to sell it to us, we’re a fishing village. We have nothing to trade. ” He swallowed. “We’ve lost three of our own already.”

Summers heard shouting as the captain emerged from below deck, Nowak and Asle close behind. He shouted to the few sailors still asleep.

“We set out immediately. We’ll rest once we’re at sea.”

Summers looked to Synel, to his friends. They’d probably be dead if these people had had their way.

“No.” Summers raised a hand, stalling the man. “Sarge, I think we need to have a vote.”

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“Are we really doing this?” Cortez looked at Summers, an expression of worry on her face. “Not that I don’t think he deserves it. I’d just rather get the fuck out of here.”

“We can’t leave things like this,” Summers responded.

He began to drag the chief to the dock, the man pleading with him the entire time. Cortez sighed, hefting her gun.

A deckhand brought him a barrel of chum shortly thereafter. Summers picked it up, surprised by how light it felt in his hands.

He tossed it with everything he had. It sailed a good distance from the ship, spilling out, painting a small red circle on the water’s surface.

Then, Summers watched as the same massive head they’d seen earlier breached the waves. A beat, and he saw it again, closer this time.

He placed a hand on the chief.

“I’d swim fast if I were you.”

That was all the warning the chief got before Summers hauled him up and tossed him into the sea, nearly a dozen feet from the dock. His bleeding leg caused him to flounder for a moment before adrenaline took over.

Summers watched as the monster’s head bobbed toward the barrel before quickly changing direction to head toward the chief. The man began to swim for shore in a panic, arms pumping as he moved for all he was worth.

He nearly got to the shallows before the beast reared up, a massive head that resembled a horned snake breaching the water.

A spear sank into its side a moment later.

The monster let out a sharp, shrill cry as its mouth snapped shut and turned away from the shore.

Summers grabbed the next spear, launching it like a cannon. It struck home, sinking into a white-maned neck as the creature writhed. The third slammed into its head, and the creature stopped moving entirely.

The chief made it to shore in the next few seconds, breathing hard, staring at the now dead leviathan a short distance from the shore.

“Eat that,” Summers yelled.

The man didn’t respond.

Summers watched the