by Melissa Kuch
“Fawn, you have to leave here now. The rest of the windows are going to break any minute.”
Another bomb exploded, causing a huge crash around them, and they bent down, protecting their heads, as shards of glass fell around them. A few grazed Aurora’s skin. She grabbed Fawn’s hand, but she shook her off.
“No. Get out of here Aurora! Protect my son!”
“To protect your son is to leave here! Dying here is not what he needs. It’s not what all these people need! Don’t be David! Be Fawn, and be their leader!”
The statue of David Xiomy crumbled to the ground, and Fawn’s face was frozen as the statue was swallowed under the onslaught of the waves. She then instructed everyone to abandon their post and to head to the submarines immediately. Fawn stepped down from the pulpit, abandoning her own post, and together with Aurora she helped hold up the elderly couple and lead them to the submarines. Otus was there and quickly lifted them in.
“Seal the main doors shut!” she instructed loudly. Otus slammed them shut, preventing the tidal wave from getting through the cavity. There was no time to check for any wounded or survivors.
Fawn relayed the coordinates of the safe haven to Otus and warned him to be careful. “You will need to be faster than us,” she told him. “And don’t stop if we get hit. You keep going. After all, it is you they are after. We will distract them as much as we can.”
“Thank you, High Magistrate,” he said, bowing to her, and with one last reassuring glance at Aurora, he took off beneath the water heading toward the pipes that opened up into the ocean waters. Aurora jumped into Submarine 1, which looked like a giant silver whale made of metal with a periscope sticking out of the blowhole. She was followed by Fawn, who latched the door shut behind her and gave the order for them to submerge and be ready for combat.
Aurora huddled in close to Boreas, who looked so weak and frail beside Mrs. Xiomy. Aurora put her hand over his as a comforting gesture, but his eyes revealed what she was thinking. It would be a miracle if they got out of this alive. The ten submarines submerged and followed each other in linear procession through the circular pipes that resembled sewer systems. As soon as they swam through the final threshold, the submarines shot out into open water, splitting off into different directions. Aurora tried to peer out the porthole to get a glimpse of Otus, but he was nowhere to be found. He must have already gotten a head start. The captain was shouting orders over the intercom to the other submarine drivers. One got hit by a fallen bomb, and there were screams that echoed throughout the loud speaker.
“Submarine 5 has been hit. We are going down!”
Then there was stagnant silence. The others submarines were staying on their target. They shot torpedoes out to sink the top layer of Common Good ships that were blocking the surface. Two of the major battleships were sunk as they continued on their mission. The submarines shook from bombs just missing their target, shaking so tumultuously that leaks began sprouting up. Aurora and Mrs. Xiomy immediately attempted to patch up the areas where the water was seeping through, blocking it with duct tape and other supplies they could scavenge. Fawn was resolute on her course, not letting any of the submarines diverge from the plan. She stood up with the captain, shouting commands into the intercom, a little woman with a loud voice who was working on the last ounce of hope that lay within her. She was protecting her fellow countrymen and women the only way she knew how. Aurora turned back once to see the rest of Plymouth Tartarus collapse, glass shattering like icicles that melted from the line of vision, disappearing beneath the bleakness of the ocean. She glanced over at Babs, who was looking out the porthole, her hand resting on the glass pane as if reaching out for another hand that would never hold it again. Aurora nervously stroked the chain of the gold cross that now lay around her neck. She put her face against the window and watched as the last walls of Plymouth Tartarus collapsed, crumbling to the sands beneath it.
“God be with you too, Eileen,” she said softly as they continued forward into the murky darkness.
nother bomb exploded and rattled the sides of the submarine as Aurora peered out the window, seeing the last remnants of Plymouth Tartarus plummeting toward the ocean floor. The beautiful glass ceiling and aqua marble walls that made up the castle were demolished, and an eerie emptiness took its place in the ocean. Too many people did not make it out alive, and Aurora felt a tear slide down her cheek thinking about Eileen.
Aurora stuffed the cross beneath her shirt, and it bulged out slightly over her heart. She wiped the tear away and turned toward Boreas, who was silent and looking very frail, the bandage still wrapped around his neck. The doctor had warned them not to move him too early, but there was no choice in the matter. It was either move him or he would have been buried underneath the rubble of Plymouth Tartarus.
The submarine sunk deeper into the dark ocean, and another bomb exploded, just missing them. It rattled above their heads, the aftershocks shaking them so that Aurora lost her balance and grabbed a seat next to Boreas. He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I hope Otus gets through this,” he said slowly. The giant was out there avoiding these bombs like the rest of them. Otus had told her he had some tricks up his sleeve, but how was he, a thirty-foot giant, going to avoid these bombs? He was a direct target and didn’t have metal protecting his body.
Another leak sprouted above them from the aftershock, and water started shooting into their submarine. Soaked and freezing, Aurora grabbed more duct tape and towels to patch up the leak and prevent the water from squirming through the hole. Fawn shouted out more orders through the intercom, instructing the other submarines to sink lower and to attack at full force.
“Hit them with everything we have! Attack in a fluid motion. There is only one of them. The planes can’t hit us down here.”
The nine submarines left began to congregate into battle motion. In unison they released their torpedoes, which soared through the ocean like a school of fish and kept their eye on the target. Fawn stared into the periscope, biting her lip as she watched the torpedoes sailing closer and closer to their end target. After what felt like hours, a huge explosion surmounted above them, sounding like rockets going off on the Independence Day of the Last Straw.
“A direct hit!” she cried out, closing the periscope shut and telling the captain to move at full speed toward the safe haven.
“We cannot wait for them to remobilize. Full speed ahead.”
Aurora excitedly turned to hug Boreas, but he was already preoccupied with Babs, who had her arms wrapped around his fragile body. Aurora quickly turned away and marched to the front of the submarine, where she hugged Fawn.
“I knew you would get us out of there,” she said still in her embrace.
“I am glad one of us did,” Fawn replied, fixing her long hair into a ponytail, her forehead soaked with sweat.
Together they surveyed the damage and checked in with the other remaining nine submarines, but all were able to move forward to their destination, which was less than one hour away. They went dead on their transmission to prevent any radio frequency from being picked up, and all were advised to remain silent as they moved still as shadows through the deep waters.
It felt like an eternity, but finally the captain gave the nod that they were approaching their destination, and Fawn checked her compass necklace and gave the thumbs-up to him to proceed with caution. The captain pressed the button, but nothing happened. Instead of going upward, the submarine started to sink downward. The engine was dead. He pressed the button again more forcefully but still nothing happened.
Fawn stared at him and shouted, “Back-up release valve.”
She cringed as again nothing happened, and both she and the captain surveyed the damage to their ship, which was on the starboard side. They hadn’t been able to get a visual of it until then, and there was no chance for it to be fixed in time before the oxygen ran out. They watched the other submarines float toward the surface, and Aurora felt her hope
deplete, knowing that their fate was never to see the sunlight again.
“We are not dead yet,” Fawn declared resolutely. She had them flash their light to the other submarine captains, hoping that one of them would come to their rescue. She flashed it again in Morse code: three long flashes, three short flashes, three long flashes. She kept this going for ten minutes, but there was no response from the other submarines that were too focused on getting their own passengers to safety. Aurora turned toward the fifty-plus people stuffed inside Submarine 1, with mothers clutching their children in their arms as if they could keep all pain and fear out of that circle of love. She watched as the elderly couple kissed tenderly as if it was the last kiss they would share together in this lifetime. Aurora just felt claustrophobic. She had no one to hold or kiss or say good-bye to. She wished she had been brave enough to tell Jonathan that she cared for him. Now she would never know how he felt. She closed her eyes and pictured herself in his strong arms as he whispered that she was the only girl he had ever cared for. She was the one he had loved all along. Then his face faded into pixels, and all that remained was darkness.
Just then there was a rumble that caused the submarine to shift onto its side, everyone colliding against each other as bodies piled and nearly crushed the people on the bottom.
“Another bomb! We’ve been compromised. Brace yourselves,” Fawn yelled. Everyone huddled in the center of the submarine, awaiting the hit that would mean their lives. Aurora felt her head spinning realizing this was it. This was it.
Huddled with eyes shut, Aurora thought each breath would be her last. But two minutes passed and still no explosion.
Fawn slowly lifted her head and hollered, “Then what in god’s name was…”
She shrieked as the submarine started to shift from side to side. They were no longer sinking. They were rising to the surface, the light getting brighter and brighter until they splashed out of the water and were once again floating on the ocean waves. Once the boat had stopped shaking, Mrs. Xiomy and Fawn surveyed the injured. Many people were banged up and bleeding, while others were having trouble breathing. Fortunately everyone was still alive. Aurora spun the wheel and opened the hatch of the submarine. Looking down at them was none other than a dripping wet Otus.
“I should have known it was you,” Aurora laughed.
“I told you I was a good swimmer.” He smiled back. Seaweed was dripping from the top of his head. She helped the others go up the ladder, and Otus assisted them to shore, where the other passengers from the submarines were already setting up camp. They were relieved that their leader was safe. Fawn heartily shook Otus’s hand and said that without him they were surely done for.
“It’s times like this I’m glad we have a giant on our side.”
Otus carried Boreas to the campsite. He was passing in and out of consciousness, the atmospheric pressure changes taking a toll on him, and they found the doctor, who had managed to salvage his medical bag during the evacuation. Aurora watched Babs search each of the submarines for some sign of her fiancé. There was none. She sat in a corner, assisting an elderly couple who were injured during the submarine battle. Aurora went over to her and said, “I am so sorry, Babs.”
She applied the bandage and replied tartly, “Eileen would say it’s God’s will.”
“And what do you say?”
Babs glared up at her. She had the same eyes as Eileen, but these were glazed with hate. “I say God’s will be damned!”
Aurora left her in her grief and returned to where the community was setting up camp in this mysterious place that they called the safe haven. It was deep within the crevice of the mountains, and there was a water bank where they had floated up but besides that they were surrounded by purple majestic mountains that had pointed peaks jetting out of the clouds. The land was fertile and moist, and there were large oak and maple trees providing shelter and a canopy from the eyes of the skies. It was as if they had taken the submarine back in time to the days of the Native Americans, where Candlewick and civilization seemed a million miles away as they stood on the border of the forest and wilderness.
Fawn took tools and other essential items out of the submarine and passed them out to people strong enough to help set up camp. Some men took axes and went into the forest to chop wood so they could start building shelters. They had to take precautions that if the Inspector was after them, he did not give up so easily. The community was split, with some members chopping wood and others gathering leaves and twigs and making little huts that could withstand a rainstorm and provide protection from wildlife. Some built fires, using the daylight to mask the smoke so they could prepare food for the injured. Aurora helped some of the women gather seeds and plants in the forest, and they showed her which were edible and which to avoid.
“Don’t test anything yourself,” one woman named Beth said. “Ask first.”
They picked dandelions, clovers, plantains and other edible plants that Aurora had never heard of before.
After chopping wood, gathering seeds and fruit, and cooking, all sat down on the ground under the stars and thanked God for their safety and for providing them passage to the safe haven. They blessed the fallen loved ones who had died fighting for freedom. Their lives would continue to live on through the community.
Fawn adorned her shell headdress on top of her head. Her voice rang out, fierce and resolute. “They may have destroyed Plymouth Tartarus, but they cannot destroy our spirit. Here tonight, I christen this ground Plymouth Incarnate.”
The others cheered into the night, and all ate the small amount of food distributed throughout the community, so different from the banquet that they had feasted on the night before at the gala. Aurora sat down beside the maple tree and stared into the ocean, her stomach still empty but grateful for being alive. The stars twinkled above her. She could not remember the last time she saw the stars so vivid. She could make out the constellations on that summer day, pointing out the scorpion and Orion’s belt. Her father had taught her these constellations from her backyard. He said that tracing the stars made a map so that you would always know where you were. They had sat together playing games of tracing the stars with their fingers as if connecting the dots. They envisioned themselves as sailors to the new world, following the North Star as their only compass. As long as it was in front of them, they knew they were heading in the right direction.
A rustle in the leaves caused Aurora to turn her head in a flash to behold Otus staring up at the stars beside her. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said, sitting down and causing the thick maple leaves to shake, hiding his head from view.
“Without you, Otus, I’d be down at the bottom of the ocean.”
“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Aurora took a deep breath and continued to gaze up at the stars, leaning against a tree trunk. She plucked some grass with her fingers, and the blades trickled through her fingers, soft and smooth to the touch. She had taken all this for granted: the stars, the night. Even herself. All of it could vanish in an instant, like a blade of grass plucked from the earth by her hand.
“Otus, what do you believe in?”
She heard him take a deep breath, letting it out slowly like air circulating through a heater. He wiggled his hairy toes that were resting on the edge of the shoreline. The waves nearly touched, reaching closer and closer with each ebb and tide.
“What I believe is what I’m still trying to find out.”
Aurora stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “I guess that is what we are all still trying to find out.”
“But I have a hypothesis.”
Aurora turned to him and tried to make out his face through the tree branches. She could only make out the leaves rustling and knew that was where he was breathing.
“You have a hypothesis about a belief?” she scoffed. “Science and religion don’t mix. That’s what the IDEAL says.”
“Do you really think the IDEAL has all the answers
?”
She knelt down beside the shoreline and washed her calloused hands in the cold liquid, the water sifting through her fingers. Six days ago, her hands had been innocent and naïve about the world around her. How different these hands looked to her now. She was afraid to gaze at herself through the reflection in the water, afraid that she wouldn’t recognize the girl staring back at her.
“I think I should check on Boreas.” She kicked a rock, and it went soaring through the air and plopped into the ocean. Otus stood up, and together they walked away from that peaceful sanctuary. She glimpsed one last time at the stars up above, and something her father said came back to her.
“Make a wish, Aurora,” he had said, holding her tiny hands when she was a little girl hanging onto his neck in a piggyback ride.
“What do I wish for?”
“Anything you want. They can hear you. But you can’t tell anyone else your wish or it won’t come true.”
She had squeezed her eyes really tight and made a wish and then opened them in a flash, expecting the thing she wished for most to manifest out of thin air before her eyes.
“It didn’t come true,” she said abrasively, upset that her father had lied to her.
“Maybe it will come true in a way you didn’t expect.”
Aurora laughed thinking about how young she had been to believe that stars made wishes come true. She squeezed her eyes really tight, and then they shot open in a flash like she had done as a little girl. Once again the thing she wished for most didn’t manifest out of thin air.
“We’ll see if it comes true,” she thought to herself, holding her hand over her heart as she followed Otus’s large footprints on the graveled path.
Boreas looked disgusted, eating seaweed soup when they entered his tent. He slurped it loudly as the seaweed slithered down his throat. The color had returned to his face, though the bandage still lay wrapped across his neck right above the jugular vein. Aurora was relieved when she heard his voice was back to normal.