Copyright 2021 by Dave Reardon.
Published by Bonhomie Press, a division of Mango Publishing Group, Inc.
Cover Art: Casandra Ng
Layout & Design: Carmen Fortunato
Originally published by Reardon Media 2016
Map James & Ann Reardon
Editors Kate King & Ann Reardon
Mango is an active supporter of authors rights to free speech and artistic expression in their books. The purpose of copyright is to encourage authors to produce exceptional works that enrich our culture and our open society.
Uploading or distributing photos, scans or any content from this book without prior permission is theft of the authors intellectual property. Please honor the authors work as you would your own. Thank you in advance for respecting our authors rights.
For permission requests, please contact the publisher at:
Mango Publishing Group
2850 S Douglas Road, 2nd Floor
Coral Gables, FL 33134 USA
For special orders, quantity sales, course adoptions and corporate sales, please email the publisher at or +1.800.509.4887.
The Deep Enders: A Novel
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication number: 2021942640
ISBN: (print) 978-1-64250-643-3, (ebook) 978-1-64250-645-7
BISAC category code YAF024100, YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Historical /
Military & Wars
Printed in the United States of America
A Novel
Dave Reardon
Coral Gables
Contents
Chapter
M icki stepped onto the murky street, skirting the opium dens and tin-roof gambling shanties that pockmarked the desperate side of town. A sliver of moonlight broke through the clouds, backlighting a squadron of angry mosquitoes in the alley ahead. Micki swatted them away, walking fast with her head low in the midnight air. Her chest ached, and eyes burned, but she couldnt stop now, not here. An argument drifted on the breeze, and in the distance, a miserable dog howled. Keep moving, dont draw attention.
And then she saw them.
Two soldiers slouched under a fly-spotted porch light, smoking as they swapped tall tales. Micki balked, but they hadnt seen her yet. She couldnt turn back now anyway. Hugging the shadows, she slipped into a side street and immediately picked up the pace. Micki checked over her shoulder then weaved into another narrow alleya heartbeat later, crashing into a candle-lit card table with three gamblers hunche d over it.
Sorry, sorry. Micki stepped bac k, her hands raised in apology as the men scrambled to steady the table.
One of them, young with scraggly blond hair, glared up at her. But then his eyes widened greedily as he took in the pretty teenager with dark hair and o live skin.
The gambler flashed a broken smile as Micki edged away from the trio.
Hey, lovely girl, he beckoned her closer, waving his beer bottle. Come ave a drink.
No thanks, she said firmly, easing past, alm ost clear.
The man lunged for her and latched onto the hem of her cotton shirt. Micki pulled away, but he was too strong, reeling her in until she could smell the stink on his breath. She tried to wrench his hand off and, in a moment of morbid fascination, her eyes fell on a gnarled stump where his little finger should have been.
Micki wanted to cry out, but the soldiers were so close, just around the corner. If they heard anything
Let go! s he rasped.
Let go, he mimicked sadistically, and the others roared with laughter.
Micki balled her fist and struck with all her might on his shoulder. It wasnt hard as far as punches go, just enough to throw him off balance. But as he swayed backward, his rickety stool creaked and toppled over. His feet shot straight into the air and upended the table, spraying cards and beer bottles across the night sky. The other two men leaped up indignantly, cursing as their beer rained down. And for one stunned moment, Micki was transfixed by the chaos she h ad caused.
You awright, Toothy? one of the strangers said, stretching out a hand to his nine-fingered friend sprawled in the dirt.
The other man, an older fellow with a beer gut and a wispy mustache, eyed the girl with growing suspicion.
And slowly, a sly smile crept across his sun burnt mug.
Shes one of them ! He thrust a finger at her face.
Busted! Micki didnt protest. She turned and sprinted down the alley as the three men clambered over the table and gave chase, yelping like hunting dogs after a rabbit.
Stupid, stupid! It was madness for her to have come back. To be here in this place, alone at night, could only ever have ended badlybut she was scared and starving, and all she wanted to do was go home. Even if home was empty. Even if the soldiers had already taken everyone. It was the only place she knew.
She ran harder. Deeper into the labyrinth. Micki had been a good athlete at school, but the hunters were grown men, and, despite their intoxicated state, they were gaini ng on her.
Toothy, in particular, was quickand motivated. Hed recovered from his humiliating tumble in a flash and joined the chase, racing past the other two men like they were jogging o n a beach.
He closed in on his prey, his footsteps pounding in Mickis ears as she blurred past a Chinese laundromat with buckets and mops hanging on an awni ng to dry.
Faster, hes right behind, her mind screamed.
Ahead the street widened to an expanse of flat ground, and beyond that, the waters of Dampier Creek, smooth and glinting in the moonlight. Micki desperately wanted to keep running, but with the blond one right on her tail, she realized the open space was her worst enemy. Hed be run down in a matter o f seconds.
Instead, Micki did the last thing he expected. Digging a heel in the dirt, she turned and sprinted back toward Toothy. Then, at the last moment, she double-stepped around his grasping fingers and headed for the laundromat. It was close now, but so too were the shadowy figures of the other two coming her way she was trapped. If only she could reach italmost thereshe leaped for a bamboo mop hanging from the awning. The beam overhead groaned, then the head of the mop broke away, and she swung down, landing neatly in the dirt with the wooden handle in her hands.
Toothy snarled, almost upon her, as Micki wheeled around. At that moment, she was grateful for her fathers playful lessons as a childmock kendo in the backyard with homemade face masks and bamboo swords. She planted her feet, gripped the stick with both hands, and swung viciously. The bamboo flashed in the night and struck Toothy, his wild hair flying as he staggered into a corrugated fence. A clang reverberated down the alley.
The hunter bled but di dnt fall.
And even in the dim light, she saw the glint in his eyes shift to something darker. Micki tucked the mop handle under her arm and bolted, turning down a side street, then another. And she might have escapedexcept her ankle clipped a cargo box and she tumbled to the ground in anguish, the bamboo skittering across the dirt as she fell. The girl scrambled to her feet, but before she could reach the stick, a strong hand suddenly clapped tight over her mouth. Eyes wide with terror, she tried to scream, to fight him off, but it was no use. Feet scrabbling in the dirt, Micki clawed and bit and thrashed as she was hauled mercilessly into the darkest corner of the alleyway. Then, nothing . One hand firm over her mouth while his other arm squeezed around her torso, locking Mickis wrists to her side.