The river widened near Pisa. The current slowed, turning the Arno into a black mirror reflecting the burning sky.
"Formation!" Marcus yelled. "Turtle up!"
The refugees scrambled. They threw ropes between the rafts, lashing them together into a single, wobbling island.
In the center sat Narcissus on his massive barge. He was the anchor. The heart of the flotilla.
"Here they come," Marcia said, racking her shotgun.
Engine noise roared over the water. High-pitched whines.
Six lights appeared downstream.
[UNIT: FLAME-SKIFF.]
[SPEED: 60 KNOTS.]
[WEAPON: MOUNTED FLAMETHROWER.]
They were jet skis. Modified, armored, and painted red. Riders in thermal suits crouched low over the handlebars.
They circled the raft island like sharks.
"Hold fire!" Marcus ordered. "Wait for the range!"
The lead skiff cut in close. A spray of water kicked up.
WHOOSH.
A stream of liquid fire arched from the skiff's nose.
It hit the water ten feet from the rafts. The surface of the river ignited.
"They're burning the water!" Decimus yelled. "The fuel floats!"
"Shoot the riders!" Marcia screamed.
She fired.
BOOM.
The buckshot hit the water behind the skiff. Too fast.
The skiffs tightened the circle. The wall of fire closed in.
"They're herding us!" Marcus realized. "They want us to beach!"
"If we beach, the firestorm gets us," Narcissus rumbled. "We must break out."
A skiff broke formation. It charged straight at the raft island.
"Ramming speed!" the rider yelled.
"Brace!" Marcus shouted.
He ran to the edge of the raft. He activated his energy shield.
The skiff hit the raft.
CRUNCH.
Wood splintered. The impact threw refugees off their feet.
The rider launched himself off the jet ski. He landed on the raft, right in front of Marcus.
He drew a machete. The blade glowed red-hot—thermal edge.
"Burn!" the rider screamed.
He swung.
Marcus blocked with his shield. Sparks flew.
The rider was fast. Enhanced reflexes. He spun, slashing at Marcus's legs.
Marcus jumped back. His boot slipped on the wet wood.
He fell.
The rider raised the machete for a killing blow.
"Hey!"
Marcia was there.
She didn't shoot. She tackled him.
She hit the rider at full speed. They both went over the edge.
SPLASH.
They disappeared under the black water.
"Marcia!" Marcus scrambled to the edge.
Bubbles rose. Then fire.
The rider's fuel tank had ruptured underwater. The fuel floated to the surface and ignited.
A patch of the river was burning.
"She's under the fire!" Decimus yelled.
Marcus was about to jump in when a hand broke the surface ten feet away, clear of the flames.
Marcia gasped for air. She was dragging the rider by his neck. He was limp. Drowned.
"Got him," she choked out.
Marcus pulled her onto the raft. She collapsed, coughing up water.
"You crazy..." Marcus started.
"He was going to kill you," she wheezed. "You're welcome."
The other skiffs saw their leader fall. They stopped circling. They lined up.
Five of them.
They revved their engines.
"They're going to rush us," Marcus said. "All at once."
"We can't stop five flamethrowers," Decimus said. "We're wood and plastic."
"We need a cannon," Marcus said.
He looked at Narcissus.
The giant was sitting on his barge in the center of the island. He was watching the skiffs. His one good eye glowed red.
"Narcissus," Marcus said. "Can you stand?"
"My legs are rusted," the giant grumbled. "But my arms work."
"Stand up!"
Narcissus placed his hands on the deck. He pushed.
The barge groaned. It tilted dangerously. Water rushed over the side.
He stood.
Twelve feet of battered, scorched steel.
The skiffs charged.
They roared toward the raft island, flamethrowers priming.
"Wait for it," Narcissus whispered.
He watched the lead skiff.
Fifty feet.
Forty.
Thirty.
"NOW!" Marcus yelled.
Narcissus didn't punch. He didn't throw debris.
He jumped.
He bent his knees and launched himself into the air.
Two tons of metal defied gravity for a split second.
He landed on the lead skiff.
CRUNCH.
The impact was catastrophic.
The jet ski disintegrated. Fiberglass shattered. The engine block cracked.
The rider was crushed instantly.
Narcissus sank like a stone.
Splash.
The huge wave swamped the two skiffs behind him. Their engines choked on water. They stalled.
"Fire!" Decimus yelled.
The Legionnaires opened up on the stalled riders.
The remaining two skiffs veered off, terrified by the metal monster falling from the sky.
But Narcissus didn't surface.
"He sank!" Marcia yelled. "It's too deep!"
Marcus stared at the swirling water.
"Come on, big guy. Walk it off."
Bubbles. Massive ones.
Then, a head.
Narcissus stood up.
The water was only chest deep here. A sandbar.
He was holding the wreckage of the jet ski in one hand.
He looked at the fleeing skiffs.
He wound up. His servos whined.
He threw the jet ski.
It flew like a missile. It spun through the air, dripping fuel and water.
It hit one of the fleeing riders in the back.
BOOM.
The rider and his bike exploded in a ball of fire.
"Strike!" Narcissus roared, raising a fist.
The last skiff fled downstream, disappearing into the smoke.
"Clear!" Marcus shouted. "Paddle! Get to the giant!"
They paddled the raft island over to Narcissus. He grabbed the edge and hauled himself back onto his barge.
The whole island dipped under his weight, then stabilized.
"You okay?" Marcus asked.
"Wet," Narcissus grunted. "And I think I swallowed a fish."
They drifted past the burning wreckages.
The river widened further. The current picked up.
Ahead, the Leaning Tower of Pisa loomed out of the smoke.
It was lit by the firestorm, glowing orange against the black sky.
"Look," Marcia pointed.
At the base of the tower, on the riverbank, a figure stood.
Nero.
Or rather, a hologram of him.
He was conducting an invisible orchestra.
"And for my finale!" his voice boomed over the roar of the fire.
Explosions rippled around the base of the tower.
"He's blowing it!" Decimus screamed.
The ancient stone groaned.
It leaned further. And further.
Gravity took over.
The tower fell.
It crashed into the river.
SPLASH.
The impact displaced millions of gallons of water.
A massive wave rose up. A tsunami of mud and river water.
"Hold on!" Marcus yelled. "Turn into the wave!"
They couldn't turn. The raft island was too heavy.
The wave hit them.
It lifted the rafts ten feet into the air.
They surfed.
For a terrifying minute, they were riding the crest of the flood. Debris, burning logs, and pieces of history churned around them.
The wave carried them past the city. Past the blockade.
It deposited them into the delta.
The river opened up.
The water turned salty. The air cooled.
The sea.
The Mediterranean stretched out before them, dark and calm.
The firestorm stopped at the beach. The sand didn't burn.
They drifted out into the open water. The rafts bobbed gently in the swell.
"We made it," Marcia whispered. She collapsed on the deck, shivering.
"Headcount!" Decimus called out.
"Minus five," a voice replied. "Lost in the wave."
Marcus looked back at the burning coastline. Italy was an inferno.
"We lost five," Marcus said. "But we saved two hundred."
He looked at the horizon.
Dawn was breaking over the water. Gray light revealed the vast emptiness of the sea.
Except it wasn't empty.
A shape loomed in the mist.
Massive. Rusted. A mountain of steel floating on the water.
An aircraft carrier.
It wasn't pristine like the Board ships. It was patched, scarred, covered in barnacles.
And flying from its control tower was a flag.
Black background. A white skull wearing a laurel wreath.
"Pirates?" Marcia asked, squinting.
"No," Marcus said. "Resistance."
"Or a trap," Narcissus rumbled.
A light flashed from the carrier's bridge. Morse code.
... --- ...
"They're signaling us," Decimus said.
"What are they saying?"
Marcus watched the light.
W-E-L-C-O-M-E-T-O-H-E-L-L.
"Welcome to Hell," Marcus translated.
He smiled. A tired, grim smile.
"Sounds like my kind of people."
He stood up on the raft.
"Paddle for the ship!" Marcus ordered. "Let's see who's driving that rust bucket."