Aquifer (21 page)

Until the storm.

Pummeling rain, the rarest and most violent of gifts, falls in sheets, and waves swirl, lick, and then slap the boat.

“Capture it!” I throw open the lids of both water casks and lift my cupped hands. Water, for free.

Talya loses her balance and crashes hard against the hull. I stumble to her side, and sweep back her hair.

She laughs, and I stare unblinking into her joy — an unencumbered, unbridled joy that surges through her veins even as we float toward our undoing. There is no fear, only a trust I do not know, one that buoys her through scorching sun and sudden rain.

I want her, but more than that, I want her unconquerable soul.

We ride the crests until the bottoms fall away and we plummet into the sinks. Up and down. Darkness takes us, and southeast disappears. For all I know we are retracing the way we came.

And then, as stealthily as it appeared, the storm vanishes, moving on to bless another sea. Stars appear and our motor makes headway.

“That never happens. Ten full minutes of rain, it never happens … I no longer know if we’re close.” I look for clues in the sky. “I don’t know how far back the winds set us.”

“I think not too far.” Talya points at the water, her face blank, her mirth absent. Floating toward us, a flotilla of wood. Decking, drift, mast …

And more bodies.

The characteristic dreadlocks of New Pert float aimlessly in the water. Men and women — mostly men — swell by. They aren’t Amongus. They are us: Doctors, teachers, neighbors. New Pertians are destroying each other.

“I want to put ashore in Glaugood,” I say. “It’s a deep mine. Nothing’s there. Nobody is there. We should be able to set out unnoticed.”

Talya looks up from the water. “Set out to where?”

I wait a moment too long to answer, and she turns. My shoulders slump. Talya’s great man has no idea what he’s doing.

Daylight and the shoreline arrive together. I hold our distance, beyond the reef, and turn south. I don’t know exactly where we are but I know we’re close to home, and I don’t want to risk another arrow-pierced welcome. My gaze traces the
shoreline. I puff out air. Fortune is our companion. To the left rises the city of New Pert.

Further on, the arch remnant of Glaugood. I quiet the engine and slowly patter toward the mine and the sea opening I first discovered with Seward.

“This mine is submerged, but it’s filled with caves. Empty, except for one,” I say. “It’s the perfect place to hide a boat and decide what to do … Oh.”

It is far from empty. Faces peer out from every cave. Families, many I’d seen in my previous life. The mine is
filled
. We float into the pit’s heart, and I spin a slow circle. Pertians stare down in silence. I duck into a windcoat and pull the hood over my head.

“Who are they?” Talya asks.

I shake my head and kill the engine. “Hallo! What brings you all to this place?”

From a cave toward the top, a raspy voice calls, “You don’t know? The city is taken. Savages roam.”

“But can this be safe?” I ask.

“Safe no longer exists, but we have nothing they want. They demand all our water, our food.”

“So if you hunger and thirst, why retreat to this desolate place?”

The voice falls silent.

“They’re waiting for their end, Luca.” Talya plops down. “These caves … can’t you smell it? They are homes and tombs. These people are refugees. They have no place to go.”

What is happening? A short time ago, I sat in school, staring at the dial in my eagle. I was content, sort of. Content and fooled.

“The Amongus,” I ask the voice. “They were barricaded near the Swan.”

“Their walls fell.” A young woman, gaunt and tired, appears at the front of her cave, a limp child in her arms. “The last I heard, only the museum is in their hands.”

I think of the family on top of the marble building, waiting for the next transport to safety. Are they still waiting?

“The savages you spoke of …” Talya says. “Do they meet?”

“They have formed the ‘true’ council. In the amphitheater,” a woman answers. “From there, my eldest son and his friends spew anarchy. In the months that remain, they will no longer be controlled. They mock their dials and broadcast their anger across the world. They demand to speak with the PM.”

I can no longer hold it in. “People, you have more than months! Rats will never turn off your flow.”

There is no response.

“They are resigned. They can’t believe you. I think — I fear — part of them doesn’t want to,” whispers Talya.

I tighten my jaw. “The amphitheater. We need to get there. But not through the inlet. I can’t be sure Lendi will be there to help us this time. But before we go …”

I draw our boat near the cave with the woman and child. “Have you any use for wood? Warmth for your son, perhaps?”

She glances around. “Always, wood is needed.”

I unlash the caskets from the hull, and carefully reach them to the woman. I glance around. “Enjoy the fire.”

She lays down her child, and grasps the small barrel. She cocks her head, peers inside it and her eyes grow large, a tear tracing down her cheek. Talya hands her the second casket, and I fire up the engine and motor back into open water.

It’s time to return home.

W
e arrive at the Shallows and float quietly toward the Graveyard.

“This was my home. Where I lived with Father.” I point at the heap of charred wood. “This was safety. It was a nice shanty, one of the nicest on the shore.”

I steer toward the stones. “Rub! Old Rub! Are you here?”

She quickly surfaces and paddles toward the boat. I reach over and stroke her shell. “I’m sorry it all came to this. Stay in the water. Stay low.”

“What is this creature?” Talya gazes in wonder, and slowly stretches out her hand.

“A guinea turtle. But Old Rub is more friend than turtle. She alone listened when Father was so far away.” I pat her shell, and she dives, taking a piece of me with her. It’s a good thing — I know that being far from me at this moment is a good thing — but floating in the Graveyard with Rub is the first normal I feel in a long time.

“There.” I wipe my eyes. “The dock where Father sat. I’m surprised it didn’t burn. Walery did quite a job.”

“I’m sorry. I had no choice in the matter.”

Talya screams and I stumble over an empty water cask, ending up on my backside on the deck.

I scramble to my feet, and Walery slowly rolls out from beneath a balled-up sail. He is not the controlled boy I first met, or the dazed one I saw with Father beneath the lake. He is merely a boy, full of fear and sadness and desperation.

“You’ve been there the entire trip.” I shake my head. “How’d you know I’d take this boat?”

He groans and pulls himself up, his body soaked and shivering; the inch of water that sloshes around the deck has taken its toll. “I followed you down from the lake, and watched the man you call Seward prepare this boat. I watched Massa pull up anchor.”

“You were on the beach when we were taken,” Talya says.

I frown. “You could have taken the boat when we were in their huts, but you waited for us?”

“You freed Massa. I figured if you could find him, you could think your way off the isle.” He glances at the house and sighs. “What you spoke of me was true. It’s my fault the house was burned. It’s my fault you were pursued below. I ate all the food, drank all the water meant for Massa during his deprivation. I’m responsible for more than you know.”

“But you waited.” Talya walks over and helps Walery to his feet, and then gentles him down on a seat. “And that makes up for it all.”

It is Walery’s turn to frown. “No. I haven’t made up for anything. Not yet. But perhaps I can. I heard you need to reach the amphitheater.”

I shrug and raise my hands. “That’s the plan. We’ll go at night.”

“Certainly. That’s up to you. But at this point, I think I could be of service, and from what I’ve heard, what I’ve seen, traveling New Pert by night is no safer than beneath the sun.” He stares at me intently. “I believe you can reach your goal, if you travel … differently. Remember, I was taught some things you perhaps were not.”

Don’t trust him
.

The Voice inside strikes clear, and I glance at Talya. Whoever owns these strange words is becoming more insistent. Still, they have never led me astray.

“Luca’s not too proud to accept help.” Talya cocks her head. “Speak on, Walery.”

“Uh, hold up. I, I mean we, won’t need his help. Not this time.”

“Luca, we need everyone’s help.”

Walery points to what’s left of the shanty. “It’s the least I can do.”

Talya’s face shines, and it’s not the sunburn. She’s convinced, settled. She knows nothing about the route to the amphitheater. She has never walked these streets before. But she believes Walery, trusts him completely.

Worse than that, she believes him over me. A new feeling creeps in. It is not rage or desire. It isn’t fear or pride. It’s a twisted joining of them all.

Wren once told me a story where a king died bearing all those feelings. She called this wicked combination jealousy.

Jealousy
.

“Talya, do you trust me?” I whisper, while Walery yawns and stretches. “If you do, we can’t listen to him.”

Her hands fly to her hips. “You can’t do everything alone.”

“I haven’t done anything alone! I’ve always had Father or Seward, and now I have you. I have a feeling about this. I heard.”

“You heard.”

“Yes. And I trust the Voice.”

“I heard no voice,” she snaps. “Do you ever hear it?”

Talya’s foot begins an angry tap. “Are you suggesting that I don’t know what to do?”

“No! I’m admitting that I never know … That is, I rarely know without help, but this time I do know without help. Unless you call the Voice help, which it is … Oh, Talya.”

I have no more words. I can’t convince her. I tie the boat to the dock and leap out, reach back to help her. She looks at my hand, turns away, and assists Walery onto the dock.

“Thank you, Talya,” he says. “Allow me to help you.”

I watch Walery holding my Talya’s hand and wish he were still beneath a lake.

“Okay, Walery,” I say, lifting my hands in a flourish. “What’s your grand idea?”

“We follow the diverters.”

“The diverters?”

“How to explain this for simple minds … Water rises from the Aquifer to massive pump lines that use pressure and suction to draw moisture the final feet to the surface. This mechanism is all the work of the Rats.”

Simple minds? This simple mind has seen it in action!

“But once it reaches the last ten feet, it must be distributed throughout our inhabited world. That is the job of the diverters — huge networks of flexible piping that run below ground like octopus tentacles. The diverters split into thin fingers that
carry water to individual gathering stations, but before they separate, those large diverters transport water throughout each major city.”

“That was a very clear explanation,” Talya says.

“Thank you.”

I can’t believe this!

Walery continues. “Care and maintenance of the diverters is Topper work, highly specialized and secretive. The average citizen is not told how to access the network.”

I fold my arms. “And let me guess; you know the way to the diverters.”

“Well,” he says, “it’s not as glamorous as your memorized route, but yes, all those taught below were shown the way.”

Talya gazes at me triumphantly. I know that look from Lendi: I told you so.

“And these diverters lead from here to this amphitheater?” she asks.

Walery massages the back of his neck. “Not exactly. Entering the network involves a hike, but once we’re safely there, you can follow the main line all the way to downtown. You’ll be walking right under the mob’s feet until you exit the network beneath the hospital. The final stretch into the amphitheater will prove rough, but I think your odds of success are much greater than if you traversed the entire route on the surface.”

Don’t trust him. Stay on top. Leave Talya if you must. She’s in no danger
.

But Walery’s plan sounds perfect, saving us miles of walking through chaos-filled streets. And the hospital? It’s only a few blocks from our destination.

I have to admit the idea is brilliant, and for the first time I
push back against the Voice. No advice telling me to leave Talya has any quarter in this head.

“Walery,” I say, “I misjudged you. Lead on.”

“Okay.” He stretches and exhales. “We’ll be quite visible until we get out of town. That means we have to hug the shore. Speak to nobody. Glance at nobody.”

“How do you know to avoid these things?” I ask.

He pauses. “I was here days ago, before I … joined your father. We’ll be fine. I’m a child, you’re a boy. We’re not expected to have anything of value. We should be able to slip through to the diverter entrance.”

I am a young man, a Sixteen!
I wait for Talya to correct him, to insist I’m more than a mere boy. She doesn’t.

I don’t know how to make things right with her. She’s still angry; it’s all over her face. And I’m doing what she wants.

Now I have more questions for Father, questions about girls and the third type of love.

Walery leads to our gate and pushes through. Talya, close behind him, pays no heed to me. I could paddle out to Old Rub for all she cares. I sigh and dash after them, peeking first to my left, then my right. Outside my home, it’s still — too still for words of chaos to be true.

“Move quickly,” Walery hisses. “Follow me.”

The houses along Shore Way are burned or deserted; at least I think they are. Once, I catch a pair of eyes peering out from behind Gullier’s wall, but it can’t be him — our neighbor was always kind to me and he’d at least say hello. I hope he still would.

It’s so quiet. The normal bustle of people visiting the shore and heading to the wharf has been muted. As have the birds.
None fly, none sing. Instead, there is only the crunch of broken glass and broken stones beneath our feet.

The entire sector has fled.

They’re probably all hiding in Glaugood.

Walery jogs away from downtown, always checking behind him. But there is nobody following besides us, and after half an hour of hugging the shore, I tire of worrying.

That’s when Talya pops back into my mind. She’s beautiful when she moves; beautiful when she’s irritated. I try to think of words that can repair us.

“It looks like this is going to work out,” I call. “You know, I miss talking to you. How long until you like me again?”

“I like you now.” She glances over her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I enjoy your company.”

That makes no sense. Absolutely no —

Engines approach.

Walery veers left and ducks behind a half-standing brick wall. Talya follows. I just slip in behind them before motors rev, and unrestrained voices fill the air.

I peek out from behind the barricade. Twenty, maybe thirty riders hop off their cycles. One screams down the streets.

“Time to give tribute to the New Council!” He laughs. “Bring out your water! Your rations! We have no desire to harm you.”

Slowly, people emerge onto the street. From within destroyed homes, beneath ripped tents, they appear carrying cups and flasks and pitchers of water, and lay them at the riders’ feet.

“Small gifts do not please.” The screamer reaches down, raises a cup to his lips and drains it. He flings it to the ground, where it bounces at the feet of a young boy. “Next week I want your entire quota!”

“But my mother, my sister —”

“Oh, were they thirsty?” he mimics, his face turning dark. “Perhaps a smaller family would not feel the need to withhold.”

The boy runs back into his home, while a second rider pours the other containers into a jug and slings it over his back.

“This is most displeasing. Should your sector not fill three jugs? We will return!”

They roar off into the distance.

I look at Talya, who returns the glance. We’ve been watched the entire time. People are everywhere. Terrified people.

“How far to the diverter entry point?” I ask.

Walery wipes his brow. “Less than a mile.”

We run out from behind the wall, eager to escape the city. Fewer people mean fewer roving bands demanding tribute.

We sprint along the curb, and the number of shanties lessens. Those we do see are in better shape, some completely intact. New walls surround many of these dwellings — no doubt hasty attempts at protection.

“Here!” Walery points. We pass Klubarth’s mansion, the largest residence on the mainland, and duck into Pert Clinic 23. I’ve been here before, when I was young and broke my wrist. Walery races past overturned chairs to the elevator and slams the up button.

“This better still be operational,” he says.

“You hit the wrong button.” I reach out to correct his error, but Walery catches my wrist. “Watch.”

The door opens and we step on.

Walery shields the button panel, and when he steps away, six numbers are lit.

“Six numbers pressed in the correct sequence makes up …”

We slowly drop into the earth.

“Go down.” Walery grins and folds his arms.

The doors open and we step out.

I can’t believe it. A network of tubes, five feet in diameter, crisscrosses the ceiling. The tentacles stretch in every direction. The rush of water is deafening.

“This is one of the main stations,” Wallery shouts. “Fresh water collects here, changes directions, and flows out again within the most extravagant series of tunnels ever devised.”

I peek at Talya, who has perfected the eye roll since surfacing. Clearly she thinks the tunnels of the Rats far superior.

I rub my forehead and remember the face of the young boy who brought the rider his meager ration. He stood one mile from this water exchange. I glance up. So much water. So free. Never in danger of running dry, until now, and that only because the Nine are destroying what they’re desperate to obtain.

“This one.” Walery points at the largest tube, painted bright yellow. “This is your road to the downtown hospital. Once you’re there, get on the elevator. The doors will open on the hospital’s top floor. From there, I wish you well.”

“Thank you.” Talya hugs Walery. “How can we thank you?”

Walery bites his lip. “You can’t.”

She steps back and jabs me with her elbow.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks, Walery.”

He bows and turns back toward the elevator.

“Where will you go?”

“I need to … comfort the remainder of my family. They are sheep without a shepherd.” His young features harden. “We both have our journeys.”

The door closes on Walery, and Talya and I are alone beneath the pipes. She reaches out her hand, I take it, and we walk toward the hospital. It appears she now enjoys my company.