What to do about Pod
For a while, no one knew what to say. Pod’s story was like some kind of dark, horrible fairy tale. Eventually Annalie spoke.
“The pirate ship you were on,” she said, “what did it look like?”
Pod frowned, and then described the very ship that had almost attacked them. “We saw them!” Annalie said. “They came after us but then they went after something bigger and left us alone.”
Pod looked critically around the boat. “Yeah, slim pickings here. Not much to sell. But if you see ’em again, run fast as you can.”
“You don’t suppose they’re coming back for you?” asked Essie, looking worried.
Pod shook his head. “They think I’m dead.” A silence fell. Eventually, Pod spoke, a half-nervous, half-defiant look in his eye, “So, what are you going to do with me?”
Annalie, Essie and Will exchanged looks. It was the same question they’d been asking themselves.
“What do you want us to do with you?” Annalie asked. “Do you want us to take you home?”
“Where’s that?” said Pod dryly.
“You could go to the Admiralty,” Essie said. “Slavery’s illegal. You could make a report. I’m sure they’d do something to help you.”
“I don’t suppose you have any papers?” Annalie asked Pod.
Pod shook his head.
“Then there’s no point going to the Admiralty. If you don’t have papers saying where you belong, they’ll put you in a refugee camp to wait for resettlement,” Annalie explained.
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Essie asked.
“No one’s actually resettling refugees,” Will said scornfully. “The governments all say they’ve got enough people to deal with already.”
“But—” Essie began, then stopped.
“The Admiralty’s no good,” Pod said, and spat on the floor. Essie stared at him, disgusted. Realising he’d done something wrong, Pod wiped the spot with his foot, shamefaced. “Admiralty,” he muttered. “Never helped anybody.”
Annalie turned to Will and Essie, looking for ideas. “We could drop him off at a decent-sized port,” she suggested. “Somewhere he might find work, or help?”
“There are charities,” Essie said. “They might be able to help you work out where you came from. Help you find your family.”
“My family sold me,” Pod said dully. “They don’t want me back.”
“Well, maybe not,” Annalie said. “But I’m sure we can find someone who can help you.”
Pod nodded. His fieriness had died down into a hopeless passivity. “Wherever you want to take me, I go,” he said.
Pod’s true colors
They sailed on. The weather remained fair, and the days passed. After telling his story, Pod returned to an inscrutable silence. Annalie saw that he had learned to keep his head down and move through the world as frictionlessly as possible. But this did not mean he receded into the background. Unlike Essie, who had decided sailing really was none of her business, Pod was always watching Will and Annalie as they worked; in no time, he seemed to have absorbed as much as he could from them about sailing the boat, and had started lending a hand, unasked, whenever he saw the need arise.
Will was aware of this, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t disbelieve the story Pod had told them; growing up in Lowtown he’d met many people who’d had similar experiences. After the Flood there had been huge numbers of displaced people on the move, looking for somewhere safe to live, and nowhere near enough countries willing to take them all in. Many of them ended up in refugee camps, where vast numbers of people still resided, forty years later. Some had put themselves into the hands of people smugglers who could get them into wealthy countries like Dux. Without proper papers, many of them ended up trapped in shantytowns and slums like Lowtown, illegal, living on the fringes, always at risk of being deported. Others ended up as slaves, working for no pay, doing desperate and dangerous work in some of the most terrible corners of the world. Sometimes they were lucky; they got away and were able to make a new life for themselves.
What worried Will was what Pod hadn’t told them.
How had he really got himself adopted by pirates? That part of the story didn’t quite ring true to Will, and he wondered if Pod was really the hard-working innocent he said he was. Back in Lowtown, Will knew boys who lived on the fringes of the brotherhoods, and could imagine nothing better than to join. The brotherhoods were secretive, hierarchical, and violent—entry was not simple. You had to prove yourself trustworthy, and that sometimes meant doing terrible things to show you were up for anything and willing to follow orders. Pirate crews, he thought, must be similar. Had Pod really been adopted by a pirate? And what had they made him do once he joined the crew? Will wasn’t sure he believed Pod’s story, and he wasn’t ready to trust him yet. He found Pod secretive and unreadable, and Will worried that at any moment Pod might show his true colors and kill the three of them, or sell them as he had been sold, and take their boat for himself.
One day Will noticed Pod examining the solar panel that powered the auxiliary engine. They hadn’t had any reason to use the engine since Pod had come aboard and it was possible Pod hadn’t realized that there was an engine. Until now.
“What are you looking at?” Will asked suspiciously.
“Solar—what’s it for?” asked Pod.
“It doesn’t work,” Will said untruthfully. In fact it ran all sorts of things that needed power, from the sat nav to the kitchen stove. Essie used it to charge her shell, although she had not been able to link since Southaven.
“I seen one like this before,” Pod said. “I could help you fix it.”
“I can fix it myself, thanks,” Will said.
Pod slunk away without another word, leaving Will more suspicious than ever.
Later that day, Will said to Annalie, “Are you keeping an eye on him?”
“What for?”
“I saw him today poking around one of the solar panels.”
“So?”
“So, what’s he doing getting into the workings of the boat?”
“I think he’s trying to learn more about it. He wants to help.”
“You sure about that?”
“Why are you so paranoid?” Annalie said, exasperated.
“We already know he was a pirate. We’ve got a boat, and he’s got nothing. What’s to stop him from taking it?”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Annalie said firmly.
“I’m not so sure,” Will said. “I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
Annalie rolled her eyes.
* * *
The good weather held; they completed their crossing of the open expanse of ocean. Annalie steered them toward the Astramans, the island group that was one of the westernmost outliers of the Moon Islands, where they would take on fresh water and supplies.
“We made it through the Furies,” she said to Will, smiling, as the top of a mountain appeared on the horizon.
“Easy!” Will said, and laughed. “The worst of it’s behind us now.”
Astra Nostro, the second largest island, had a port and trading post. Unfortunately, there was also a small Admiralty base there, so they decided to bypass Astra Nostro and go to Astra Semla, a smaller island, which their charts told them had fresh water. Although the Astramans were far from Dux’s territorial waters, the Admiralty maintained a base there—one of many around the world—so they could patrol inside the island archipelago if the need arose.
The most obvious route would take them directly past Astra Nostro and on to Astra Semla, but neither Will nor Annalie wanted to risk coming to the attention of any Admiralty ships, so they took a longer route, circling a smaller island and looping around to Semla, which lay to the east of Nostro.
“I bet the fishing’s good around here,” Will said, as
they sailed around the rocky coastline.
“You want to throw a line in?” Annalie asked.
“Actually I was thinking I could do some spearfishing—maybe look for shellfish too.”
“That’s a good idea,” Annalie said. “If you got enough, we could barter.”
Will loved to fish, and loved to dive even more. He used a mask, but didn’t bother with a snorkel, just held his breath while he dived under the water.
“I can drop you off and you can have a dive while we take the boat into harbor and get the supplies,” Annalie said.
For a moment, Will let himself get excited about diving a new site. But then he realized that if he got off the boat, he would be leaving the girls alone with Pod. “Forget it,” he said.
Annalie looked baffled.
“We should all go to get the supplies. There’ll be time for diving later.” When Pod was safely off the boat.
Essie began assembling a shopping list as they drew closer to Semla Harbor. “How much cash do you think I’ll need to take?” she asked.
Will was aware of Pod listening attentively.
“Don’t take too much,” Annalie said.
The wad of notes Essie had got for them in Southaven had been divided up and hidden in different places around the boat. To Will’s relief, the two of them disappeared into their cabin and closed the door while they dealt with the money.
When the girls emerged again, Annalie turned to Pod. “So, we’ll be in Semla Harbor soon.”
Pod nodded, expressionless.
“I think they’re meant to be pretty safe, the Astraman Islands.”
Pod still said nothing.
“When we get there, I thought we could go into town and see if International Flood Relief have an office there, or the Charitable Sisters.”
“Brothers in Harmony are good too,” Essie offered. “They have excellent second-hand shops.”
“We’ll find someone who can help you,” Annalie said.
Pod just nodded again. It was obvious he didn’t want to go. Annalie looked guiltily at Will. But Will didn’t feel any guilt. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew the pirate’s apprentice was safely off his boat.
* * *
They sailed into Semla Harbor and docked at the water station. The fees were high, but not outrageous (it rained a lot on Semla). All of them were glad to step ashore. They had been at sea for weeks now.
“The ground feels so weird,” Essie said. “It’s so flat.”
“Will, do you want to fill the tanks and mind the boat while we take Pod into town?” Annalie asked.
Will hesitated, torn between his desire to stay and protect the boat, and his unwillingness to let his sister go off with Pod. But before he could decide what he thought, Pod spoke: “I’ll go now. Thanks.”
Pod turned swiftly and began to walk away.
“But—” Annalie began.
“I thought we were going to give him some money,” Essie said.
This was news to Will, but he said, “Let him go. He can handle himself. He doesn’t need you fussing round him.”
“But he hasn’t got a cent,” Essie said.
All three of them watched him go, Annalie in sorrow, Essie in awe, Will with a sense of growing relief.
“Well, that’s that then,” Will said briskly. “Let’s get what we came for.”
Will pumped water into the tanks, then they all went into the small town to buy supplies.
“Look,” Annalie said, pointing. The shabby little post office had a sign advertising that it was an office for International Flood Relief. “He’ll be able to get help there.” She kept hoping she’d see Pod. But he had vanished.
“You know,” Annalie said, as they walked back through the little market with their provisions, “we don’t need to get out of here straight away. There’s still time for some diving.”
Will grinned at her. “You girls want to come?”
Annalie shook her head, and Essie said, “Are you kidding? There’s signal here!” She waved her shell happily. “I have weeks of catching up to do.”
“Your loss,” Will said.
They sailed out of the harbor and back toward a likely looking bay Will had spotted on the way in. Essie and Annalie arranged themselves on the deck while Will kitted himself out with his dive bag, mask and speargun.
“Don’t drown,” Annalie said.
Will made a face at her and jumped overboard.
The water here was lovely and warm and a beautiful color. He stroked strongly away from the boat and looked down into the swarming, flickering life below. The sea was full of fish, all colors, all sizes. For a long time he just swam about, enjoying the sights, without any thought of using his speargun. After a while his swimming took him toward the rocks, which were deliciously clustered with shellfish. He swam over and prized some off with his dive knife. He thought he saw an even denser bed of them further away and swam on, then swam again. Soon, his dive bag was laden with the freshest shellfish, but when he stuck his head up to work out where he was, he discovered that he was much further from the boat than he’d thought. A current was working down the side of the island and it had swept him away from the Sunfish. He could see it, but it was going to be a long swim back. He was just contemplating whether to begin that swim now or dive for a bit longer and swim back later when he heard an odd whistling sound, and then something landed wetly and heavily upon him. Startled, he went under and came up spluttering to discover he was entangled in something.
That something was a net. He fought to get it off, thinking it must have been floating in the water, but then he heard a little croak of laughter.
“Hey boy, doing some poaching now?”
He struggled to turn toward the shore, still encumbered by wet nylon webbing, and saw, to his horror, two young men standing on the rocks above him. They were bare-chested, in the Astraman fashion; one had a shark tattoo, the other was tattooed with something clawed and crabby. Both were looking down at him with hostility.
“I’m sorry,” he called, treading water. “I didn’t realize.”
“You think you sorry now?” Shark said. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Will struggled to free himself. Crab pulled on a rope attached to the net and it pulled tight around Will. They began to haul him in. He kicked and struggled, trying to get his arm free, to reach his knife, to maneuver the speargun into a position where he could use it. But his head kept getting pulled underwater, flushing him with panic, making it impossible to do anything.
He glanced back at the Sunfish, desperately hoping the girls might have seen him. But they were so far away he could barely see them on deck; what hope was there that they could see him?
He crashed painfully into the rocks, and the two young men began to haul him up. He was dragged up, kicking, scraping himself in numerous places but as he came level with them he managed to wave his speargun about and fire it.
The shaft flew, but flew wide. The young men shouted in astonishment. Crab grabbed the speargun from Will and tossed it behind him into the scrub, while Shark said, “Oh, you in big trouble now.” They dropped him hard onto the rocks, and Crab pressed his knee into Will’s chest, while Shark pulled out a knife of his own, a big, ugly-looking hunting knife.
“I think you got something that belongs to me,” Shark said. He took Will’s dive bag, opened it, and showed it to Crab. Crab chuckled. “Didn’t anyone tell you this place is for locals only?”
He tossed the dive bag aside, then came at Will’s neck with the knife. Then, quite suddenly, something flashed across Will’s line of sight. Shark grunted and fell back, then Crab, who was still kneeling on Will’s chest, toppled too.
Pod was standing over him, brandishing the speargun. He’d swung it once, twice, clouting the two men across the head. He darted to where Shark’s knife had
fallen from his hand and picked it up.
Will scrambled to his feet. Shark was still lying on the ground, groaning, clutching his head, but Crab was on his feet, coming back for another go.
“The speargun,” Will shouted to Pod.
Pod tossed him the speargun. Will caught it and slipped another bolt in, his hands shaking, before training it on the men. Pod and Will moved toward each other, as if they were a team.
“I won’t miss this time,” Will warned.
Will and Pod began to back away over the rocks.
Shark moaned. Crab turned to check on his mate, and Pod hissed, “Run!”
Pod ran up the rocks like lightning and Will followed. There was lush green foliage above the rocks, with a well-trodden path between rocks and scrub. They ran along it as fast as they could, back toward the Sunfish.
When they got close enough, Will started shouting, “Hey! Hey!”
He could see the girls still sprawled on the deck. Essie was cruising the links, Annalie reading a book.
“They’re coming,” Pod reported, looking back over his shoulder.
The men were still after them, one of them with blood running down his neck.
“Annalie!” Will roared, “Essie!” and at last Annalie looked up and turned in every direction until finally she spotted him jumping and waving as he ran along the shore.
“We’re going to have to swim for it,” Will said as he neared the boat and began clambering as fast as he could down the rocks.
“I don’t swim,” Pod said.
“I thought you were a diver?” Will shrieked.
“Doesn’t mean I can swim.”
They reached a rock ledge that projected over the water. Below, the waves swooshed in and out. Will looked down, then back. The men were still coming and, worse, he saw them shouting to someone. He looked over his other shoulder and saw another man coming from the other direction.
“Time to learn!” Will shouted, grabbed Pod and leaped into the water with him.
Down they went, down and down, then bobbed up to the surface. Pod grabbed Will and started frantically trying to climb up him to get out of the terrible water. Will fought back, and they wasted precious moments floundering at each other. Then a soft plop sounded near them.
The Flooded Earth Page 13