The Flooded Earth

by Mardi McConnochie

  * * *

  “I think I have to go home.”

  “Why?” asked Essie.

  It was later the same evening. Essie and Annalie had tucked themselves away in a quiet corner of the junior common room.

  “Because I need to know what’s going on and Will never asks the right questions,” Annalie said. “And besides, I know he’s up to something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Annalie’s fingers were tack-tacking agitatedly on the desk top. “But whatever it is, I bet it’s a bad idea.”

  “The school will never give you permission to go.”

  “Then I’ll go without permission.”

  “You’ll get into big trouble.”

  “My dad’s on the run from the Admiralty,” Annalie said dryly. “I think I’m already in trouble.”

  “He is,” Essie said. “You’re not. At least, not yet.”

  Annalie thought of the elaborate lie she’d told to try and put Beckett off the scent. It would probably take him at least a few days before he worked out it wasn’t true. But once he did...

  “Don’t go,” Essie said. “There’s nothing you can really do. And didn’t your dad want you both to stay out of it?”

  “Yes,” Annalie admitted.

  “Then shouldn’t you do what he wants?”

  “Yes, but...that Beckett guy told me all this stuff about my dad, awful stuff, and I need to know if any of it’s true.”

  “Are you sure...” Essie began, then broke off.

  “What?”

  Regretting that she’d broached the subject, Essie said, “Are you sure you really want to find out?”

  Annalie was staring at her, a challenge in her eyes. Essie knew she was venturing into dangerous territory, but could not go back now. “I mean—what if it’s true?”

  Annalie began to look outraged.

  “I’m not saying it is,” Essie said hastily, “but maybe your dad wanted to protect you. Maybe it’s better not to go sticking your nose in.”

  “It’s not true,” Annalie snapped. “I know it isn’t. My dad isn’t like your dad.” And she got up and rushed out of the room.

  Lolly

  Annalie walked toward her dormitory, already ashamed of herself for what she’d said to Essie, but with a horrid feeling creeping through her. Essie loved her father and she’d believed he was a good man—right up until the minute she discovered that he wasn’t. What was it Beckett had said? People had secret lives, things they couldn’t undo. Was Spinner one of them?

  With this troubling thought in her head, she arrived at her own dormitory to a horrible sight: Tiffany and Sandra were standing beside her bed and they had been going through her drawers. Her clothes were scattered carelessly about on the floor, her books were flapping open on the bed and, worst of all, Tiffany had pulled out the suitcase from under her bed and discovered what she had concealed in there.

  The two girls looked around as she walked in, their faces both guilty and wicked.

  “What’s this?” Tiffany asked, holding something up.

  It was a doll. Spinner had made it when Annalie was very small, carefully constructing the head, painting the face, creating the jointed arms and legs, the delicate little hands. She was a slightly odd creation, with her face and limbs made of wood and metal, while her rounded body was soft and squashy, but Annalie had loved her passionately since the day she got her. The doll’s name was Lolly and, like her owner, she had just one dress, which was a little ragged now. Annalie couldn’t bear to be parted from her, but had also known that she could not possibly display Lolly in front of her roommates. One or two of them had cuddly toys that adorned their beds, but Lolly was different. Annalie could see her through the eyes of others, and could not bear to expose Lolly to ridicule. So she had stayed in the suitcase, under the bed—until now.

  “Give that back,” Annalie said, although as soon as she’d said it she knew it was the worst thing she could do. If she’d kept her cool, pretended it didn’t matter...But it was too late now.

  “Is this your dolly?” Tiffany crooned. “Your very bestest dolly?”

  “How sweet!” Sandra chimed in.

  “Sweet?” echoed Tiffany, turning to Sandra. “This is actually the worst thing I’ve ever seen!”

  “The worst!” Sandra agreed merrily.

  “This is without a doubt the crappiest, ugliest, stupidest doll in existence.”

  “Can’t blame you for keeping it out of sight,” Sandra said.

  “In fact, I think we should do you a favor,” Tiffany said. “Instead of just hiding it, don’t you think it’s time you got rid of it? I mean, it is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. Time to cut the cord.”

  Tiffany marched briskly to the window and began fumbling with the latch so she could throw it open.

  “No!” Annalie shrieked.

  “It’s got to be done,” Tiffany said, handing the doll to Sandra while she wrestled with the window latch, which was stiff.

  In desperation, Annalie launched herself at Sandra, knocking her to the ground. Lolly was pinned beneath her; the girl cried out affectedly in pain. Annalie struggled with her, fighting to take back Lolly. Tiffany grabbed Annalie around the neck and tried to pull her off Sandra.

  Yanked backwards, Annalie lashed out with her feet at Sandra, who dropped Lolly with a howl.

  Annalie grabbed Lolly, then twisted like a fish in Tiffany’s grip. She broke free then turned to face Tiffany, Lolly in one hand, her other fist raised, ready to take a swing, when she heard a voice from the doorway say, “What is going on here?”

  All three of them froze for a moment, then turned to see the house mistress standing in the doorway.

  “She attacked us, miss!” Tiffany said instantly, her voice filled with righteous anger.

  “For absolutely no reason!” added Sandra.

  “Is this your dormitory, Tiffany?” the house mistress asked.

  “No, miss,” Tiffany said.

  “Then I don’t need to remind you that other girls’ dorms are out of bounds, and for good reason.” The house mistress paused, her gaze raking all three of them. “Now, I don’t know what’s been going on here, but you should know that fighting will not be tolerated anywhere in this school. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, miss,” droned Tiffany and Sandra.

  “Yes, miss,” said Annalie.

  “Don’t let me catch you in here again,” the house mistress said, and Tiffany and Sandra darted from the room, giving Annalie a very dirty look behind the woman’s back.

  The house mistress continued looking at Annalie with an unfriendly expression. “I don’t know what it’s like where you come from, but this sort of behavior is unacceptable.”

  “But miss—”

  “And so is this level of untidiness. Clean up this mess immediately.”

  “But—”

  “Now.” The house mistress gave her a severe look, and left the room.

  Annalie slumped onto her bed, pressing Lolly against her heart. The unfairness of what had just happened pierced her. Why should she get the blame? It was them who’d come in here, pawing through her stuff, making trouble, but because of who she was and where she came from, the house mistress had assumed that she was the troublemaker. A tear slipped out and rolled down onto Lolly’s head, but only one. Annalie wiped it away.

  “I’m sorry, Lolly,” she whispered, smoothing the doll’s hair into place.

  A sudden movement in the doorway made her look up. Essie was there, hovering.

  “I warned you not to mess with Tiffany,” she said, tentative, unsure of her reception.

  “Yes you did,” Annalie said, embarrassed to be discovered like this. She placed Lolly back into her suitcase and slid the case back under her bed, stealthily wiping her eyes.


  Essie edged into the room. “I’m sorry about what I said before,” she said in a whispery little voice. “I don’t know anything about your dad. I’m sure he’s a good guy.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Annalie said.

  Essie came and sat comfortingly beside her. “I wouldn’t have picked you as a doll kind of girl,” she said. “I would have guessed cuddly animal.”

  “Spinner made her for me. I’ve had her for as long as I can remember.”

  “My dad gave me Blue Horse,” Essie said, pointing to the small grayish toy that sat on her pillow. “Tons of other stuff too. But that one was always my favorite.”

  There was a silence.

  “They’re never going to accept me here, are they?” Annalie said.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Essie said, as robustly as she could. “They’re just a few stupid bullies.”

  “It’s not just the girls,” Annalie said. “It’s all of them, the teachers, everyone. They think because I grew up in Lowtown I’m scum.”

  “Yes, but you’re the smartest scum in our class,” Essie said, trying for funny.

  Annalie didn’t smile.

  “If anyone belongs here, it’s you,” Essie said. “And don’t you forget it. Why don’t you come back to the common room?”

  “Just give me a sec,” Annalie said. “I need to tidy up a bit.”

  Essie studied her, still concerned, but then nodded. “Okay.”

  When Essie had gone, Annalie began sorting through the mess Tiffany and Sandra had made. Some of it went back into the drawers, some of it into the suitcase. A decision had been taking shape in her mind while she talked to Essie, and even while she was fighting with Tiffany, and now it was fully formed. She had to go home, now, tonight. Spinner may have wanted her to stay out of it, but how could she? An Admiralty agent already knew where to find her, and even though he professed nothing but care and friendship, all her instincts told her she could not trust him. She was no longer safe at Triumph.

  And Will wasn’t safe either. She knew her brother: he probably thought he was being extra smart and extra sneaky and that there was no way he could get himself into trouble. But neither of them had ever been in trouble like this before. Now more than ever, Will needed back-up. And so did she.

  She opened the wardrobe and looked at the row of uniforms hanging there: summer, winter, sport.

  “I won’t be needing you again,” she said, and slammed the wardrobe door shut.

  Escape

  The clock in the dormitory showed it was 5 a.m.

  Annalie slowly and carefully slid her suitcase out from under her bed. Every shuffle and zip seemed magnified by the silence; every pause in the even tempo of her roommates’ breathing made her freeze. But they only stirred, rolled over, and went back to sleep again as she unbuttoned her pajamas and pulled on the clothes she’d brought from home, then slid her suitcase out from under the bed and crept toward the door.

  “Annalie, wait!”

  She turned to see Essie sitting up in bed.

  Annalie put her finger to her lips and attempted to make her escape. But Essie jumped out of bed and hurried after her into the corridor.

  “Where are you going?” she hissed.

  “Home,” Annalie said.

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  Annalie stared at Essie. “Why?”

  Essie blinked back at her, her eyes still slightly unfocused from waking so abruptly. “I might be able to help.”

  “How?”

  “I know how to link. Unlike you. I might be able to help you find out where your dad’s gone.” Essie eyed the suitcase. “Planning on going for long?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Then I’m definitely coming. How else am I going to make sure you come back?”

  Annalie hesitated, but she knew the longer they stayed there talking, the more chance there was of someone else waking up and catching them. “All right, you can come. But hurry up!”

  Essie was soon scampering out of the dormitory in sparkly jeans and sneakers, a bulging pink bag slung across her body, her headpiece emitting patterns of rainbow light. “Ready!” she said.

  “Could you be a little less conspicuous?” Annalie pointed to the lights.

  “Sorry.” Essie switched them off.

  The school was silent and spooky as they slipped down the corridor and down the stairs, pattering through dark spaces lit only by the streetlights and moonlight pouring in the high windows. The building would be locked, Annalie was sure, and so would the front gates. But behind the school were those extensive grassy playing fields, and beyond them, fences with railings that would be easy enough to climb.

  Heavy doors blocked their way on the ground floor; they separated the dormitory wing from the classrooms, and for a moment she feared they would be trapped there. But then the door swung open under a little pressure—although it let out a fearsome squeak—and they slipped through and went scuttling down the corridor before anyone could come and investigate.

  Annalie discovered a more serious barrier when they got to the doors that led out onto the schoolyard and the playing fields. These were locked, and the lock required a key, which was not, of course, in the door.

  “Do you know how to pick locks?” Essie asked.

  “No,” Annalie said. “Do you?”

  Annalie jiggled the lock for a moment longer, then went into the nearest classroom. Essie followed her.

  This classroom, like all the others, had windows that looked out onto the schoolyard. The tops of the windows were fixed glass, but along the bottom were windows that could be opened to let in fresh air. Annalie opened one.

  “We’ll never get through there,” Essie said. The windows opened from the top, not the bottom; they would have to climb over the metal edge to get out.

  Annalie measured the gap with her eyes. “Yes we will,” she said.

  She squeezed her suitcase through the narrow gap; it only just fit through. Essie wrangled her own tightly stuffed bag through the gap and carefully let it drop to the concrete outside.

  “I’ll go first,” Annalie said.

  Climbing up on the nearest desk, she put one leg through the gap, then eased her body through. The window groaned threateningly under her weight as she ground herself, curving, through the narrow gap, scraping skin off her back, and dropped to the ground, knocking the back of her head against the window frame as she went. She cursed and rubbed it, then looked up at the window, where she could see Essie’s pale, worried face looking out.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  Essie crept tentatively into the space between the window, maneuvering awkwardly around the tight squeezes. Annalie issued instructions, Essie winced and fussed, Annalie gave more instructions, Essie announced she was stuck. Annalie came up under the window and ordered her through. Essie fell heavily onto Annalie.

  “Remind me why I’m bringing you?” Annalie said grumpily as they both clambered to their feet.

  “Sorry,” Essie said.

  Annalie pushed the window shut until she heard it click, then they retrieved their bags and began to run across the dark schoolyard and out onto the wet grass of the playing fields.

  They soon came to the tall spiked fence railings that marked the school boundary. Annalie headed for a section furthest from the streetlights, where no one would see them climbing over.

  She gave Essie a boost over, then hooked her suitcase over the top of the railing, pulled herself up, clambered over to the other side, unhooked her suitcase, and dropped down into the quiet street. No one was about; it was very early and the streets were empty and silent.

  Annalie looked around, trying to get her bearings. It felt strange to be on the wrong side of the railings; although the girls were allowed to leave the school grounds (under certain strict conditions), Annalie
had not yet ventured out, so this was the first time she’d been out on the streets of Pallas since she arrived.

  “Now what?” asked Essie.

  “We need to get to the railway station,” Annalie said, knowing perfectly well that she didn’t know how to find her way back there.

  “That’s easy,” Essie said. She accessed her retinal display and her headpiece discoed; she had directions. “It’s this way.”

  As they walked, they began to see the first stirrings of the city coming to life. Late-night revelers stumbled along, or bowled past in pedicabs or electric taxis; there were vans and carts carrying fruit, vegetables, meat, and produce to markets and shops; people in overalls emerged with brooms to sweep the streets clean. Police patrolled too, and Annalie walked past them with her pulse beating in her head, fearful of being stopped, but no one did.

  Cafés started to open, bakeries too; she caught delicious wafts of bread and bacon and coffee, and her stomach began to rumble.

  “Shall we get something?” Essie asked, looking longingly into a bakery window.

  “Let’s get to the station first,” Annalie said.

  “Come on, I’m starving,” Essie said, overruling her. She ducked in and emerged with croissants, warm from the oven.

  It was after six when they arrived at the main railway station. Here, the business of the day was already beginning: the grilles over doors and shops and ticket counters clanking up, travelers arriving laden with luggage. Lines were forming outside coffee stalls. Annalie joined a group of people trying to make sense of the timetables.

  If you needed to travel cross-country, most people took the train, although there was more than one kind of train to choose from. There were very fast trains that could fly you luxuriously across the country in a matter of hours, zooming through tunnels and along elevated tracks, the countryside whipping past in an air-conditioned blur. These were the trains Essie always took. Then there were the other trains, the ones that traveled on the old lines and stopped at every station, fussing and sighing and sometimes stopping in the middle of nowhere for no reason that was ever announced. (Annalie had taken one of these trains when she came to school.) There were express services on the old lines too; they were cheap and fast, but not very comfortable.