Archipelago N.Y.: Flynn

by Todorov, Vladimir

  Flynn's raft was gliding through Midtown, which had all but disappeared after the Flood. It had become part of the new ocean, completely disconnecting the Upper Side from the Lower. Nothing but the tops of a few buildings remained, dotting the water like little islands. They now supported the crude vertical columns of the bridges erected above them, and the cable-car system that operated between the two sides of the Archipelago.

  And right down the middle of that stretch of water ran the Archipelago's life support system: the Van Zandt Water Pipeline. Made out of thousands of floating barrels, it swayed on the surface like a gargantuan snake, delivering fresh water from the Upper to the Lower Side. And of course, no one could get near it… It was the third most guarded structure in the city, right after the Van Zandt Building and the Van Zandt Desalination Plant… But that didn’t stop people from trying to breach its perimeter… Every now and then, Flynn would hear about yet another raid on the Pipeline… Driven by desperation, people would try to sneak in at night, punch holes in the pipes and fill up their containers with fresh water. Some risked their lives for themselves and their families, others stole so they could sell, or trade this most precious of commodities. Most were caught and killed on the spot. Very few succeeded and got away.

  Flynn glanced at Tony, who had dozed off on the seat next to him, still clutching the new inhaler bottle. A deep crease of worry appeared on Flynn's forehead as he watched his friend sleep. Tony's breathing was shallow, but steady. He looked peaceful, almost happy… the way he used to be … when his lungs were working just fine … Mikey’s words were still ringing in Flynn’s ears, and they made his stomach twist into a painful knot. Officer Foley had spoken of the List and the Departure Ceremony that always followed! Flynn had not thought about this event for almost a year, and now that day was creeping up on them again… The Government would be gearing up to retire the Archipelago’s “dead weight”, drawing up the annual List… Everyone knew that this list was made up of people who were too old to contribute to the community, or too sick and beyond medical help. Tony could be one of them! And then Flynn began to worry about his own father. He wondered how old Alan Perry was… Could he be that old? Was Officer Foley just making it up, or was his father really losing his eyesight… unable to do his job anymore? Had someone on the Upper Side noticed and recorded this? Flynn shook his head, forcing these dark thoughts away to the back of his mind.

  The Seeker was now approaching the huge fishing nets lined along the lower end of the Archipelago. These contraptions were based on an old Chinese design and looked like the giant skeletons of prehistoric birds, dipping their long bones into the water. Fashioned out of broken up electricity poles, traffic lights and long rusty pipes, swathed in miles of netting, they had proven to be a very reliable method of catching fish. It was the Asians who had completely taken over the fishing industry on the Archipelago, their nets forming a big semi-circle around the entire Lower Side. There were other fishermen, of course, who went chasing the big fish, like tuna, swordfish, marlin and shark… But they were specialty catchers, moving around alone on their rafts and boats, not organized in large groups like the Asians. The same could be said of the sealers and whalers. Catching big fish was unreliable, though. And very often, these fishermen would return home empty handed, after having spent days and sometimes weeks out on the water. The everyday fish trade belonged to the Asians. No one remembered when and how it had happened, but they were the only ones permitted to fish in large quantities and so close to the shores of the Archipelago.

  The nets were being lifted out of the water now. Their supporting scaffolds were screeching under the weight of the day's catch. Flynn saw the thrashing mass of fish that was being dumped onto the large floating platforms. The place was buzzing with activity. Water vessels of various shapes and sizes floated around the platforms, waiting to be loaded. Hundreds of squawking seagulls blackened the sky, circling above them all. Some were brave enough to dive down to the nets in an attempt to steal a piece of herring or mackerel. Those birds were swiftly speared by the assigned Seagull Catchers, always ready and waiting with their deadly harpoons.

  Suddenly, Flynn pulled the steering rudder towards him and turned the raft in the direction of the nets. Tony sat up in his seat, puzzled by the swift change in movement. “What are you doing?” He rubbed his eyes and glanced around to get his bearings.

  “How about some fresh fish for dinner?” Flynn asked with a big grin on his face.

  “You crazy, amigo?” Tony was wide awake now. “The place is crawling with Security Guards…Especially at this time of day.”

  “Hey, it's not like we haven't done it before, right?”

  Flynn positioned the Seeker directly behind one of the cargo boats leaving the dockside wharves. The fish were being processed on the spot by the skilled Asian fishermen. Skinned and deboned, the fillets were taken by boats, like the one Flynn was now following. Their final destination: the Fish House on Lower Manhattan’s former Meat District. The skin and bones were then ferried to other processing facilities and made into clothes, shoes, glue and pigeon food. Nothing was ever wasted on the Archipelago. Everything was recycled and used again and again… And all that dirty work was carried out on the Lower Side, of course.

  “Too risky, I think!” Tony tried to reason with his friend. “We can always get some fish at the Floating Market.”

  “Yeah, like tails and fins! All the good stuff is going straight to the Upper Side. You know that.”

  “Well ...”

  “Do you want to eat fish steak tonight, or not?” Flynn was getting angry. “’Cause I am!”

  “Yes, but ...”

  “Hold the rudder for me,” said Flynn. “Stay right behind that boat and pedal. Don't get too close. I won't be long.” Flynn rolled off the seat and quietly slipped into the water. Briefly, he swam alongside the raft. Then, taking a deep breath, he dived under it and disappeared from view.

  Following Flynn’s instructions, Tony started to pedal slowly. The sun was setting and the sky was turning a dark shade of orange, making it harder for Tony to see in the dusky light. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the boat in front, now heading toward Broadway Canal. Several men, wearing large brimmed coolie hats, were busy working around the barrels full of fish meat.

  A lone Security Guard, armed with a spear gun, stood at the back of the boat. To Tony’s dismay, the man had a holstered handgun on his belt, too.

  For a long moment the guard stood still, then his head jerked, and he pointed his spear gun down at something floating in the water. Tony strained his eyes and saw Flynn's head bobbing up and down next to the boat. The guard's spear was pointing straight at his friend. Tony froze in his seat, his heart pounding… Flynn was going to get in trouble this time! Most guards were corrupt and easy to bribe… But every now and then, there would be someone who would stick to the rules. Would this guard arrest Flynn, or shoot him on the spot? With no way of knowing, Tony closed his eyes, praying for his friend’s safety. He couldn't bear to watch Flynn being speared through the head, dying for a piece of fish!

  A long moment passed before Tony opened his eyes again, expecting the worst… only to see the guard now leaning over the side of the boat, his weapon shouldered. It appeared as if he was talking to Flynn…Then the guard reached down and dipped his hand in the water. It emerged seconds later, holding a large plastic bottle. The man tucked it quickly under his uniform’s jacket. He then walked over to the barrels and came back, handing something over to Flynn. The boy’s head disappeared instantly under water.

  Tony breathed a sigh of relief and stopped pedaling. His fear was quickly turning into anger now… They had lucked out again… No, Flynn had lucked out again! He was the one always taking risks… but sooner or later, Flynn would run out of luck…. things would go wrong, and then it would be too late... Tony shook his head, pushing that awful thought away. He knew he wasn't really angry at Flynn. He was mad at himself… Deep down, Tony wished he was more like
Flynn… reckless and carefree... not giving a damn about anything. But there was also a selfish streak to Flynn, and that was beginning to bother Tony. Of course, he knew that most people on the Archipelago were like that, too… Selfish!… At least the ones who survived the best were. Tony, unfortunately, wasn’t one of them.

  Just as the boat ahead disappeared down Broadway Canal, Flynn emerged with a splash out of the water. He pulled himself back on the raft, holding two grimy plastic bags. “Here!” he said triumphantly, handing one to Tony. “Your mom’s going to be happy!”

  The tempting smell of fresh sea bass hit Tony's nose, but he was too upset with his friend to care. “You crazy idiot!” he cried, glaring at Flynn. “I thought the guy was gonna take your brains out!”

  “Hah!” Flynn rolled his eyes at those words. He then popped his ears to drain the water out and sat next to Tony. “I know how to deal with these cone heads.”

  Tony stared at his friend¸ not sure whether to punch him or to give him a hug. “What did you tell him, amigo?”

  “Said it’s my birthday today!” laughed Flynn and took the steering rudder from Tony.

  “Is it?”

  “Just kidding…I gave him a gallon of spring water from my stash.”

  Tony was shaking his head again in disapproval.

  “What? You think it's too much?" Flynn cocked an eyebrow. “Told you there's plenty of the stuff down where we went today…We'll scavv for more of that water tomorrow, don't worry.”

  “I ain’t coming with you tomorrow!”

  “C’mon, Tony! Don’t be like that,” said Flynn, frowning. “I got you the inhalers. You’ll be fine.”

  Tony avoided his gaze. “I'm not feeling well, Flynn!” he mumbled under his breath.

  “OK, OK… I know… Sorry!” Flynn patted Tony on the shoulder and said, “Tell you what…Rest for a few days… then we'll go again.”

  “I don't think so! Go see Madison, amigo.”

  “Enough!” Flynn clenched his jaw and stared ahead. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  Tony shrugged and looked away. It was getting dark. Dim lights started to flicker behind the windows of the intricate web of shacks which protruded from the sides of the buildings along Broadway Canal. His eyes wandered up and followed the outlines of the makeshift homes, sticking out at odd angles, each overhanging the one below. The Lower Side was a vertical shanty town. These shacks had engulfed and in some places completely hidden the original facades of the buildings. They looked like living creatures that had grown in all directions, their tentacles gripping the walls. Most windows were just gaping holes. Some were covered with plastic sheets for more privacy, or just a vain attempt to resemble glass.

  Proper glass windows could only be seen on the Upper Side, thought Tony. Buildings there didn’t have barnacle-like housing extensions... But the Lower Side didn't look strange to him… It was his home, all he had ever known. And yet, he wondered who had braved these heights and built all this… Was there ever a plan, any logic behind all the added constructions? Or did these homes simply grow out of each other? And more importantly, how long would they be able to defy the laws of gravity?

  Shouts ahead made Tony tear his gaze away from the shacks. Flynn had stopped the Seeker a few feet from the back of a dingy boat. All sorts of drab floating vessels lined both sides of the canal. No one was moving. A traffic cop on a rusty water-bike pedaled past them, blowing his whistle loudly.

  “What's happening?” Tony craned his neck, trying to see.

  “I think there's been an accident ahead,” said Flynn, standing up on his seat to get a better look. Tony got up and stood next to him. Then they saw it… A block away, one of the suspension bridges, connecting two of the buildings on either side of the canal, had partially collapsed. It was hanging upside down, dangling from its broken cables. Both boys knew that whoever was on the bridge would have been tossed into the water, with very little hope of surviving the fall. They spotted the tiny, ant-like silhouettes of a few survivors, still clinging to the bridge’s twisted frame. Several were slowly crawling up, inching their way to the safety of the nearby building. Rescue Crews were rushing toward them, rappelling down on ropes from the upper floors. The boys couldn't see what was happening at water level, but could easily imagine the scene… The Waste Crews would be there already, gathering all the dead bodies and taking them away to the morgue at the Waste Pits.

  Flynn and Tony had seen this scene play itself out many times over…Accidents occurred almost daily on the Archipelago… especially on the Lower Side. Constructed out of all kinds of salvaged materials, most of the bridges and walkways were engineering miracles, challenging any known structural law. Unfortunately, they were also death traps, claiming their victims regularly, showing no mercy. But people continued using them, fixing and rebuilding the broken bridges in the same devil-may-care manner. It was the way of life here. And life on the Lower Side wasn't worth much! Survival was simply a given and no big deal. You either made it or you didn’t.

  “Looks like we'll be stuck here for a while,” Flynn said finally.

  “I think I’m gonna walk home, amigo.” Tony stepped down from the seat.

  “You want to walk on one of those bridges? After what just happened!”

  “Can't wait for all this traffic to clear…. My mom's probably worried sick by now.”

  Flynn slumped down on the seat. “Sorry, but I’m not coming with you… Can't leave the Seeker here, can I?”

  “No problem, I'll manage,” Tony said. He grabbed on to the corroded railing running along the wall next to their raft and hopped off quickly. Having landed on a window’s ledge a couple of feet above the water line, Tony stopped to see where he needed to go next. A little to his right was another large gaping window. He knew this would be his entrance into the building and the first of many dangerous steps to getting home.

  “Hey! Don't forget your dinner!” Flynn tossed the bag of fish and Tony caught it without losing his balance. “See you tomorrow, right?”

  Tony hesitated for a moment and shook his head. “Seriously, Flynn…you’d better go and see Madison.” And then, before Flynn had a chance to reply, Tony disappeared inside the dark building.

  FOUR

  Flynn pedaled past the Waste Collection platform moored against the side of his apartment building. It had been positioned directly under the gaping mouth of the garbage shoot. A lone rat poked its head out from one of the filthy barrels that lined the platform. The rodent stared indifferently at Flynn for a moment then disappeared back inside. Another movement caught Flynn’s eye. He turned to take a better look and was surprised to see the men from the Waste Crew… Their barge was rounding the corner, coming to collect the barrels full of raw sewage that the residents had thrown out that day.

  The men looked awful! Terrible! Even Flynn's torn and faded clothes appeared decent and new compared to what these men were wearing… just pieces of burlap wrapped around their hips, like deformed extensions of their skeletal bodies. Smeared with unimaginable filth from head to toe, the Waste Crew moved silently around the trash bins. Long strands of matted hair hung from their bony skulls. All of them had scraggly beards, reaching down to their chests. With all the water around the Archipelago, these men had not bothered to wash… And they stank to high heaven… No wonder people avoided them at all cost, thought Flynn, holding his breath and trying not to gag.

  The Waste Crew worked late at night, and Flynn knew their appearance at such an early hour was because of the collapsed bridge. They had come out to pick up the dead bodies and were now doing their rounds. But he had never seen them this close before. He also knew that all these men were considered criminals…Lower Siders who had broken the law… Men who had committed petty crimes like wasting fresh water, illegal scavenging and trading goods on the Black Market…. activities Flynn was quite familiar with himself…

  He had recently sailed past their living quarters, just outside the city limits and next to
the Waste Plots. The Waste Crew’s home was a large floating shack, its roof covered in layers of sea-gull droppings and birds’ feathers. As for the Waste Plots, those were huge open-top tankers full of human waste and garbage. The Archipelago’s gardeners were the only ones who actually ventured out there, but that was because their job required it. They had to make trips to the Waste Plots and stock up on sewage for their compost tumblers. The thick humus they produced then went to the numerous green-houses to help grow all the fruit and vegetables on the Upper Side. Of course, the privileged bastards who lived there would never dream of coming anywhere near the Waste Plots, thought Flynn. And they would never find themselves in such close proximity to the men of the Waste Crews…

  Now, Flynn also wanted to get away from them, but the Waste Crew barge had docked next to his building’s platform and was blocking the Seeker. There were half a dozen men on it, their eyes staring ahead, their bodies moving as one grim and soulless apparition. A pack of rats scurried out of one of the barrels, dived in the water and swam away. The men didn't even notice the rats. Slowly, they began to empty out the garbage. One of them jerked his head and his watery eyes met Flynn's. The Waste Crews were not allowed to approach and make contact with the regular citizens… but the man didn't lower his gaze… he kept staring. His nose twitched and his eyes darted to the plastic bag with the fish fillets on the seat next to Flynn. The man licked his thin, dry lips and swallowed hard. Flynn instinctively grabbed the fish bag and pulled it closer. He should leave, he thought, get out of here! But the man's eyes were back on Flynn, hungry and pleading.