The mangled Hover skidded over the dunes like a skipping stone, shaking the ground beneath Perry’s feet, until it stopped with a burst of sand. A hot gust blew past, carrying the smells of molten metal, glass, and plastic. More potent was the stench of scorched flesh.
The other Hover slowed right away and settled on the sand. The door slid open, a crack in the perfect shell. Dwellers jumped to the ground. Perry counted six men, helmeted, covered in blue suits. Six against him.
Two knelt immediately. They held weapons Perry didn’t recognize. He took out the first man right away. Nocked another arrow and fired again. Perry hit the second Dweller as the man struck him, a blow that felt like a slap to the rib, just under his left arm. He put an arrow in another Dweller, but as the three men who were left came at him, he stumbled, his legs and then his arms going numb. He toppled forward, unable to break his fall, his face thudding into the sand. Perry tried to lift himself up but couldn’t move.
“I got him.” Someone grabbed his hair, pulling his head up. Sand plugged his nose. Scraped at his eyes. Perry tried to blink but his eyes only twitched.
The Dweller brought his helmeted face close. “Not so dangerous anymore, are you?” His voice sounded metallic and far. “Didn’t think we’d forget to pay you a return visit, did you, Savage?”
He let Perry’s head drop. Perry took a kick to the ribs, but he didn’t feel any pain, only the blow pushing him to the side. Something pressed between his shoulder blades.
“What’s this?”
“Some kind of hawk.”
“Looks like a turkey if you squint.”
Laughter.
“Let’s get this done.” They rolled him onto his back.
A Dweller pressed a clear sword to his throat. He wore black gloves, the material thinner than the rest of his suit. “I’ll take care of him. You get the other ones.”
“No!” Perry groaned. He could feel his fingers now, prickling like they were thawing from cold, and pain waking in his ribs.
“Where’s the Smarteye, Turkey?”
“The eyepiece? I’ll give it to you! You don’t need them.” His words came out garbled but the Dweller must have understood.
He took the clear sword away. Perry fought to bring his arms back, but his muscles were numb.
“What are you waiting for, Savage?”
“I can’t move!”
The Dweller laughed at him. “That’s your problem, Turkey.”
A wave of hatred fueled Perry to battle for control of his limbs. He pushed himself to his feet and turned up the beach, swaying, his legs quaking beneath him. Two Dwellers ran toward Talon and Wylan. One caught Talon, the other swung at Wylan with a short club, catching him on the head and sending him down.
“Uncle Perry!” Talon yelled.
“Move, Savage!” yelled the Dweller with the black gloves. “Get the Smarteye.”
Perry stumbled to where he’d left his satchel, falling to his knees twice. He’d regained some feeling, but now he felt the ache in his ribs, threatening to swallow him whole. He turned toward the Dweller with the clear sword, holding up the eyepiece. “Let him go! I have it!”
The two Dwellers had Talon trapped between them. Talon wouldn’t stop struggling.
“Stop!” Perry yelled at his nephew.
Talon wrenched an arm free and punched one of the Dwellers in the groin. The man buckled, but the other one reacted quickly, kicking Talon in the stomach. Talon tumbled onto the sand. He came up slow, bearing his knife. Perry’s old knife. The Dweller was ready and backhanded him, sending the blade and Talon flying. Eyes blurring, Perry watched his nephew’s body go still, the waves breaking against the beach behind him.
A gust carried Talon’s temper to Perry, as staggering as any blow he’d ever taken. He couldn’t fight the Moles this way, shaking with terror. With legs that couldn’t hold him upright.
“Enough! Take it!” Perry threw the eyepiece at the Dweller.
The man caught it in his gloved hand and shoved it into a pocket at his chest.
“Too late,” he said. Then he came toward Perry, the clear sword raised and ready. Down the beach, one of the Dwellers picked up Talon and carried him up the bank. Toward the Hover. Perry couldn’t believe what he was seeing. They were taking Talon.
“No!” Perry yelled. “I gave it to you! You’re dead, Moles!”
The Dweller with the black gloves kept coming. Perry had no weapon and Talon’s temper had left him trapped between panic and rage. He backed away, retreating into the sea. The Dweller followed him, stepping unsteadily in the bulky suit as the surf crashed into his knees. A wave rolled past, spraying his helmet. Moles wouldn’t know water, Perry realized. He was ready when the next wave came. Perry lunged and tackled the Dweller. They fell together. Saltwater surged into his nose, bringing him a shot of clarity. Back to himself.
He pried the clear sword out of the man’s hand as they tumbled into the shallows. The wave slid back to the ocean, leaving them locked together, grappling in a foot of water. The Dweller reached up to shove him off. Perry brought his head down and sank his teeth into the man’s gloved hand. His canines punctured the material immediately. He tasted salt and blood and felt the give of muscle. He bit until bone kept him from going further.
The Dweller’s scream came garbled through his helmet. Perry rolled to his feet. The Dweller dragged himself out of the water and curled around his hand. Perry slammed his boot down on the Dweller’s helmet. It cracked, putting out a burst of air that Perry recognized, noxious and thin. One more kick and the man sagged against the wet sand.