The Accidental Invasion (Atlantis Book #1)

by Gregory Mone

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.

  ISBN 978-1-4197-3853-1

  eISBN 978-1-64700-036-3

  Text © 2021 Gregory Mone

  Cover and map illustrations © 2021 Vivienne To

  Book design by Brenda E. Angelilli

  Published in 2021 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS.

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

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  TO MY DAD,

  WHO LED ME UNDERWATER EARLY AND OFTEN

  Contents

  1. The Storyteller

  2. A Perfectly Good Plan

  3. The Only World

  4. Riding the Wave

  5. Darkwater Trading Company

  6. Denizen of the Deep

  7. Bodies from the Darkness

  8. People of the Sun

  9. You Can’t Shrink a Whale

  10. Escape from Edgeland

  11. Friends or Monsters

  12. Home

  13. Unusual Circumstances

  14. The Nature of War

  15. An Elaborate Scheme

  16. The Prison Beneath the Sea

  17. A Different Kind of Loss

  18. Suddenly Powerless

  19. The Secret of Atlantis

  20. Buried in the Muck

  21. Never out of Range

  22. The Long Dream

  Epilogue

  Map

  The Science of the Accidental Invasion

  Acknowledgments

  1

  The Storyteller

  Kaya quietly opened the large, multicolored glass window and stepped out onto her balcony. The streets below were crowded with people. Her vest, ankle straps, and gloves were powered up. She could run to the show, listen, and drift back before anyone discovered she was gone. Easy. Right?

  Her dad was in the living room, listening to some kind of debate about the future of farming. Something about how the city was going to feed its growing population. Important? Sure. Boring? Absolutely. Her dad didn’t sound too fascinated, either—his breathing was heavy and slow. Soon he’d start snoring.

  Kaya looked left and right, up and down. A dozen families lived in their wall. Any one of them might tell her dad they’d spotted her sneaking out again.

  Still, this was her chance.

  She leaped.

  Falling was the easy part.

  She dropped like a rock past the windows of the homes below.

  On the street, people were packed like fish in a food tank. Kaya couldn’t even find a spot to land. She switched on her suit’s gravity drive and hovered in the air a few arm’s lengths above the crowd. A woman with thick gray hair suddenly soared up and over the swarms, toward a balcony across from Kaya’s wall. The space she’d left was already closing. Quickly, Kaya dropped, knifing down into the gap. Then she crouched, blending into the crowd, pushing her way forward like everyone else.

  “Spoiled floater,” a man behind her growled.

  She hurried away, snaking through the people, and pulled a thin cloak out of her bag. Then she wrapped it around her shoulders to cover her gravity gear. That guy didn’t need to growl at her. Sure, she had a suit, but her life wasn’t perfect or anything.

  Her neighborhood, though, was undeniably beautiful, even down here on the ground. The polished stone walls were lined with crystals, not the jagged rough rocks you’d find in other areas. The windows of the homes were framed with sparkling blue and green glass. And it didn’t smell, either. On the way home from school, she had to pass through a neighborhood that stank of rotting fish. The air here was clean and fresh.

  The city was warmer than usual. Kaya was starting to sweat, so she tapped her belt. Her clothes loosened, which was more comfortable in the heat.

  Up ahead, across a plaza, Rian was waiting as planned. The area around the vent was empty. No surprise there. No one wanted to be close to the hot, steaming air.

  Rian shook his head when he saw her gear underneath the cloak. “Did you seriously jump again?”

  “I can’t exactly sneak out through the front door.”

  “Someone’s going to rip that stuff right off you one of these days.”

  “I used your earpiece trick,” she said, changing the subject. Rian had a way of making his parents think he was in his bedroom when he was out in the neighborhood. He spread some putty on his door, stuck an old earpiece and a miniature speaker to it, then synced them with his own earpiece. If someone knocked or spoke through the door, he’d hear them and respond. As long as he wasn’t too far away from his apartment, his voice played clearly through the speaker. To his mom or dad, it sounded like he was home. He always bragged about it. Kaya had never actually tried it, though.

  Hopefully it worked.

  In a rush, she unbuckled her gravity gear—ankle straps, gloves, and chest plate—and folded them into her backpack along with the cloak.

  “Ready?” Rian asked. “Let’s go.”

  Her friend knew the side streets and tunnels of Ridge City better than anyone. Most people shuffled along with the crowd or rode the boats and ferries along the painfully slow waterways. Rian? He had mastered all the shortcuts, and now he led Kaya through narrow, curving alleys, down dark stairways to passageways below. You had to be careful when you hurried along these routes. Pick the wrong time of day, and a flood might rush through and carry you out with the trash.

  “Hurry up,” he called back.

  The air smelled of metal, and the stone ground was wet and coated with grime. Rian was running. This was risky. One wrong step, and you’d slip and smash an elbow or knee. “Slow down,” she called to him.

  “Not a chance.”

  They cut left and right, and when they arrived at the old theater, Kaya was dripping with sweat. Loosening her clothes had only helped so much. Rian was studying the building with his hands on his hips. The sign over the entrance was crooked. A few letters were missing, too. Green mold grew along the sides of the rough rock wall. There were two large windows above the entrance, high above the ground, but neither one looked like it had been opened in years. “This is it?” she asked.

  Rian thought for a moment before responding. “I think so.”

  Kaya clicked her belt again, then shook her arms and legs. Her sweat-soaked clothes dried instantly. She had expected crowds outside, or at least a few people. After all, this was an Elida show. The woman used to tell her stories to audiences of thousands. Then the government began shutting down her concerts, claiming that her tales were too revolutionary. Too dangerous. Of course, Elida insisted that they were just stories. But were they?

  Years ago, people bought tickets months in advance to see one of her performances. Now her shows were free and held in se
cret, announced only hours before they began and sometimes canceled even faster if the government found out. Rian had alerted Kaya earlier that a performance was happening at this theater. Now she wondered if it had been called off already. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked again.

  He was quiet for a second. Doubtful. Then his expression lightened. He motioned to a group of a dozen or so people hurrying out of a dark alley behind her. The group hustled past the two kids. The last of them turned back toward Rian and Kaya before stepping inside. “Won’t be many seats left,” the woman said. “What are you waiting for?”

  The theater was a wide cave with high ceilings and long rows of polished stone benches. At least a hundred people crowded the main seating area. A few dozen more packed onto the balcony above.

  “Two seats down there,” Rian said, pointing to the third row.

  The lights on the stage glowed brighter as they sat.

  The rest of the auditorium grew dark.

  The crowd began to applaud as Elida walked slowly into the middle of the metal stage and sat on a small stool. Her hair was long and curled and white. A kind of energy shone around her, and there was no introduction. She didn’t need one. Kaya’s grandmother had told her that when Kaya was little, her mom used to tell her Elida’s stories at night. Supposedly the idea was to help her sleep. But instead, her grandmother said, they had infused her with wonder, excitement, and a burning desire for adventure. She was always bouncing on her bed at the end, and question upon question streamed out of her. Apparently her mother was only too happy to answer them, and in the end, it was her father who came in and tried to calm her excited brain so she could sleep.

  Sometimes Kaya wondered if the stories weren’t meant to help her rest.

  Maybe they were supposed to spark her dreams.

  That was years ago, though. She barely remembered those days.

  She almost couldn’t recall what her mother looked like anymore.

  An emptiness grew inside her. She breathed it out.

  “What is it?” Rian asked.

  Luckily she didn’t have to explain. Elida was already launching into her tales of adventure, tragedy, and comedy. The stage, the theater, the crowd of listeners soon disappeared. Kaya was transported to the worlds of the stories, to faraway places and wondrous realms. After more than an hour, Elida finally got to Kaya’s favorite, an old tale about a boy who traveled far beyond the borders of their world, all the way up to the surface of the sea. Her mother had told Kaya this story when she was young. This was the one that had really set Kaya’s imagination on fire. There were different versions, different tellings, but they all had the same basic details. Her heart always beat a little faster when the hero first broke through the ocean’s surface. The air above was supposed to be poisoned. The surface was supposed to be lifeless and bleak. But in what should have been dangerous air, the boy gazed at strange flying creatures and glittering, floating palaces of glass, crowded with bright green plants and trees. And people, too—Elida called them People of the Sun. The storyteller made the world above sound so real. And yet so magical.

  The story was almost perfect, really. Except that the boy should have been a girl.

  When Elida finished this final tale about the People of the Sun, the crowd applauded wildly. The storyteller rose carefully to her feet, bowed, and said, “At my age, there are no encores. Thank you all, and remember—”

  A man dashed up onto the stage and whispered an urgent warning. The storyteller breathed deeply and shook her head. He pleaded with her. She held up her hand and sat back down on the small stool. Then she made an announcement.

  “My associate has informed me that we will soon be visited by unwelcome guests,” Elida said. “I encourage you all to leave in a calm and orderly fashion.”

  The audience panicked. People started rushing up the aisles, swarming the exits. A man literally stepped on Kaya’s leg to climb over her. Rian stood and yanked at Kaya’s sleeve. “Let’s go!”

  But she couldn’t leave. Not yet. The old storyteller was so calm. So peaceful. She had ordered that man and the rest of her staff to flee. Now she sat alone. Her eyes found Kaya as Rian coaxed her to run. “Why don’t they want you to tell your stories?” Kaya called up to her.

  The old woman held a hand to her ear. “What was that, young lady?”

  Rian let go of her sleeve.

  Elida was talking to her. She was almost too nervous to call out again. Almost. “What’s so dangerous about your stories?”

  Now Elida smiled. “There is truth in them, dear. And truth can be dangerous.” She pointed to the doors. “Very soon, government agents will rush this theater and arrest everyone they find. Some will be released. But these lucky few will never speak of what they experienced while in the care of those agents. Nor will they speak of my stories.”

  “And the ones who aren’t released?”

  “They will never be seen again.”

  “Let’s go, please,” Rian begged her.

  Only Kaya, Rian, and the storyteller remained in the theater.

  Again, Elida looked at Kaya. Right at her.

  “I will not run,” she said, “but you two will.”

  Outside, sirens whirred and whined.

  “They’re already here,” Rian said. “We’re too late.”

  The front doors were no longer an option. They’d run right into the agents. And then what? Elida pointed high above them—the balcony. If they could get to the balcony, there might be another way out. Hurriedly, Kaya pulled her suit out of her bag.

  “What are you doing?” Rian asked.

  “Getting us out of here.”

  Now there were shouts outside the building.

  There wasn’t enough time to strap into all the gear. She buckled on her chest plate. “Hold on to my back.”

  “What?” Rian replied. “Why don’t I put on the gear, and you hold on to my back?”

  “Don’t be weird,” she snapped. “Do you have a gravity suit?”

  “No.”

  She grabbed his right hand and whistled to turn on the drive. “Then hold on,” she said, and leaped off the ground.

  The drive struggled against the weight of the two of them.

  Rian was practically yanking her arm out of the socket.

  They barely rose above shoulder height.

  “Drop me!” Rian said. “Drop me and go!”

  Nice of him. Sure. But a little dramatic, too. Kaya whistled again, holding the last note to turn the suit up to full power, and they floated high above the seats. She tilted her head back. The ceiling was approaching fast. Rian swung his legs, then let go of her, slamming into a balcony bench overlooking the stage. “Ouch,” he muttered.

  Without him, Kaya drifted faster, straight for the ceiling. She threw her hands up and pushed off the jagged rock overhead. Her wrists stung. She whistled again, dialing down the drive, and somehow landed on her feet in a crouch a few steps from Rian.

  “Luck.”

  “Skill,” she replied.

  He paused. Then he pointed to the end of the aisle. “Huh. Stairs.”

  Right. That would have been easier. Faster, too.

  She heard the heavy footsteps of the agents rushing into the auditorium below.

  Kaya and Rian stayed low to the floor, then crept closer to the balcony railing. They raised their heads, slowly, just enough so they could see over the edge. The first agents were already charging up onto the stage. The sound carried easily in the now-empty theater.

  Rian pulled Kaya down. “Careful,” he whispered. “The plan is to not get caught.”

  She nodded. He was right. He pointed to his ears. They could still listen.

  Down below, a woman with a scratchy voice was addressing Elida. “You’re under arrest.”

  “For what?” Elida asked.

  “You know very well.”

  “Was it the story about the boy who drifts to the surface and finds not poisoned air and barren landscapes, but a w
orld bustling with life and advanced technology? Should I not have spoken of the People of the Sun?”

  “Quiet. That’s enough.”

  “It’s just a story, dear,” Elida continued. “Unless it’s not?” Her tone had changed. Now she sounded as if she were mocking the agents. “Could that be it? Could the story be true? I suppose that would be one reason for you Erasers to silence me.”

  Kaya and Rian stared wide-eyed at each other. Erasers? Pretty much every kid had heard about the Erasers. They weren’t police, exactly. Supposedly they worked in secret. They grabbed criminals and revolutionaries and made them disappear. Some said they tossed people out into the deep sea. Others said they threw them in a secret jail. Kaya and Rian used to argue about whether the Erasers actually existed or if they were a legend.

  At that moment, they were frighteningly real.

  “Get up, Elida, or I’ll—”

  “Yes, that’s it! The story is true. You’re silencing me for telling the truth, aren’t you?”

  The words hung in the air. She’d pronounced them in a powerful, defiant tone.

  As if she wanted to be sure that Rian and Kaya heard her clearly.

  Kaya heard a click.

  Then a deep, powerful buzz.

  The thump of someone hitting the floor.

  Rian practically wrestled her down to keep her from looking over the edge.

  “Pick her up carefully, and get her out to the cruiser,” the woman ordered. “I’d prefer to get her out of sight before she wakes.”

  Kaya couldn’t just sit there.

  She tried to jump to her feet.

  Rian pulled her down.

  “What was that?” the woman shouted.

  “Someone’s here,” one of the other agents declared.

  “Did you check the balcony?” she asked.

  “Well, we didn’t—”

  Kaya’s heart was racing. This wasn’t good. Not at all.

  “Did you not see the giant balcony behind us?”

  “Well, we—”

  “Get up there before I erase you, too!” the woman shouted.

  Seconds later, the agents’ heavy footsteps were thudding up the stairs.

  Kaya and Rian raced to the two large windows at the back of the theater. One was rusted shut. Kaya kicked the other hard. The window swung open. She whistled to dial up her drive. “You’re not going to argue this time, are you?” she asked Rian.