Archipelago N.Y.: Flynn

by Todorov, Vladimir

  “And you’re suggesting what exactly…” Van Zandt was pacing back and forth.

  “I want him gone!” Leo’s eyes were suddenly ablaze with hatred.

  Van Zandt stopped pacing. He looked at his son, then at Duncan Roth. “What do you think, my friend?”

  “The Departure List comes out two days after the Scavenger Trials… I can put him on the List right away, Marcus!” said Duncan Roth, his face showing no emotion. It was impossible to read.

  “Hmm…” Van Zandt rubbed his chin, “that’ll be a waste of talent, don’t you think? You did say he’s extremely good!”

  "He is… I've been watching him for a while now. But no one’s irreplaceable, Marcus. You know, I value the rules above all else… And no amount of skill can compensate for the kind of disobedience the boy has allegedly shown. We can't afford that!"

  "I know, Duncan, I know ... Let me think."

  "It's your call." Duncan Roth leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

  “Dad, I want him gone!” Leo sprang up on his feet. “And Duncan’s right… Flynn Perry doesn’t know how to obey orders… Doesn’t know his place! He’ll be nothing but trouble.”

  “Sit down and be quiet!” said Marcus Van Zandt, pointing a finger at his son.

  The boy slumped back on the couch while his father turned to Duncan Roth again.

  “How many old Scavengers are we losing in our Departure this year?”

  Duncan Roth checked his handheld. “More than we’ll be gaining in the Trials, according to the numbers,” he said.

  Van Zandt started pacing the room again. “We need all the fresh blood we can get. Especially in the scavenging business… We need your divers to be bringing up stuff… go deeper to get us the supplies we need.”

  “Indeed, we do.” Duncan Roth nodded. “We’re running low on some vital supplies. I’ve got a whole new sector on the East Side grid that’s scheduled for exploration and recovery… I’ll definitely need all the divers I can get.”

  “So this Perry boy is reckless and dangerous,” Marcus Van Zandt was now rubbing his chin and back to pacing the room.

  “I’m telling you he is…” Leo began, but Van Zandt shot him an angry look, and he fell silent.

  “I’ll keep a close eye on him,” said Duncan Roth. “They don’t call me the Rottweiler for nothing.” He slipped his handheld device in his pocket and stood up. “If things get out of control, I’ll make him disappear!”

  “Then, I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Duncan…I trust your good judgment.”

  Duncan Roth nodded, excused himself and with a curt salute left the room.

  Leo got up, furious at what had just happened, but his father waved him down.

  “You stay!” Marcus Van Zandt said. “We need to talk.”

  TWELVE

  “About time you showed up!” Madison greeted Flynn, crouching on top of the raft’s seat, “‘Cause I'm done with guarding the Seeker!”

  Madison had gotten up very early that morning, cleaned her pigeon tower and made it to the docking bay way ahead of Flynn. She had tidied up their diving gear, sorted through the mess under the car seat and swept the deck. She had just sat down to eat her breakfast when she had spotted a pair of gleaming red eyes, staring at her from under one of the tarpaulins… Madison had nearly choked on her seaweed roll.

  “What's wrong?” Flynn asked. He stopped at the edge of the dock and eyed the long wooden oar Madison was now brandishing in the air. Then he saw the big, slimy rat poking its head out of the filthy water, circling the raft. Madison screamed and shoved the oar at it, but the rat was faster. It dived and disappeared under the dock’s platform.

  “Didn't think you'd be scared of a little mouse,” Flynn laughed as he boarded the Seeker.

  “I'm not scared! And it was a rat, not a mouse!” Madison slid down the seat and placed the oar under it. “Just don't like them anywhere near me!”

  “Not much different from pigeons, if you ask me,” Flynn grinned, pointing at the small bird cage close to Madison’s feet. A couple of her grey pigeons sat inside, huddled together.

  “Hey! Don't insult my birds!” The girl thumped him on the shoulder. “They’re great messengers and very intelligent creatures… I’m going to train these two to follow us out on the water. They’re homing pigeons, not some stinking rodents!”

  “I don't know who's smarter, actually ...” Flynn untied the raft and hopped on the seat next to her, “...and who's more stinky?”

  “Flynn...” Madison frowned at him, “do me a favor and get us out of here!”

  “Sure thing,” said Flynn, laughing again.

  The Seeker pulled away from the dock, turned and Flynn began to negotiate his way out between the other moored vessels and platforms. He exited through the building’s gaping entrance and made a right onto the West Street Canal, then headed up toward Midtown Bay.

  The traffic was typical for that hour on the Lower Side. All kinds of shabby rafts, boats and water bikes were moving up and down the waterways at their regular speed. Nothing unusual, thought Flynn as he relaxed in his seat. He was about to ask Madison about her pigeon training, when suddenly, he heard shouts up ahead… One by one, all the vessels started to swerve and disappear into the side canals to their right. West Street Canal was becoming rapidly deserted.

  “What’s happening? What’s all the excitement about?” Madison stood up to get a better look.

  “I don’t know,” replied Flynn, “but we’ll find out in a second.” He pressed on the pedals and increased his speed, trying to catch up with the raft ahead. The man on that vessel was moving fast, sweating over the pedals, clearly in a great hurry. Flynn managed to get the Seeker close enough, and once leveled, he sprang off his seat. “Get behind the pedals!” he told Madison. “Keep the same speed as that guy and stay with him!” With those words, Flynn jumped effortlessly over to the other raft.

  Madison obeyed immediately, taking his place. She stared ahead as she pedaled, but she could see Flynn with the corner of her eye. He was hunched over the man, talking fast. The man was saying something back, but she couldn’t hear anything from all the loud splashing of the two rafts. Flynn nodded, turned and jumped back on the Seeker.

  “We’re in luck,” he said as he took the rudder from Madison and made a sharp right into a side canal.

  “What is it?” she cried, nearly falling off her seat.

  “The Black Market’s open for business!” Flynn said. “It’s on Fletcher Street Canal today! We’d better hurry before it’s gone.”

  Rafts and pontoons of all shapes and sizes were lined up, side by side, along the length of Fletcher Street Canal. Colorful awnings stretched over them, forming a row of market-like stalls. But none of these vessels were moored. Huddled together, they floated freely, ready to disperse and be gone in seconds. Unlike other markets on the Lower Side, this one was illegal… Of course, everyone knew it existed, including the Government. It was like a living, breathing entity, without a permanent home. Always held in different spots and at different times of day, its location would quickly spread around by word of mouth. Because it was illegal, the market had a very short life, and would only last until the Government scouts had alerted the Wardens… who would then, in turn, send word to the cops. Once its whereabouts were discovered, the market would quickly disband and disappear, as if into thin air.

  Madison had been to the Black Market a few times in the past, trading some pigeon meat and eggs, but generally, she preferred to avoid it… Not worth the risk, she believed, unless there was no other way to get what she needed. The Seeker had passed a few water-bike cops before entering the canal. They were all bribed, Madison thought, by the Black Market vendors, and that’s why they were turning a blind eye! She knew that much without Flynn telling her.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked when they joined the line of vessels, moving slowly past the makeshift stalls.

  “I’ll know it, when I see it,” Flynn replied, his ey
es darting from one vendor to the next, quickly checking out their merchandise.

  They were passing by a couple of food stalls now. The first was selling herbs and spices. The stall belonged to an Indian man, his head wrapped in a grimy turban. He stood behind his counter, arranging his bowls full of sun-dried algae, kelp and urchin powders. The next stall up was a meat vendor’s. There was a rope strung across the top of the vessel, heavy with the weight of glazed and roasted rats. Madison noticed an assortment of smoked, well-seasoned seagulls hanging from a dozen hooks. An old rusty grill stood at the back where skewered pigeons were slowly rotating over it as they cooked. The vendor was surrounded by all kinds of pots and pans with fish on the fry. As much as Madison was tempted by their delicious smell, she knew they wouldn’t be stopping. Plus, she didn’t like the way the man was looking at her pigeon cage. No, she definitely wasn’t going to trade her two little birds for anything in the world!

  Flynn kept going, scanning one stall after another. He knew that everything out on display was considered innocent merchandise, mostly food or useless junk… The real good stuff, the illegal trade, was usually hidden under the counters. Being a frequent visitor, Flynn had befriended some of the regular vendors, but they were never at the same spot twice. He would have to go through the whole market if he wanted to find them.

  “That’s the one!” Flynn cried suddenly. He had stopped next to a raft with a tiny shack built on top of its deck. The vendor’s front counter displayed a variety of household items, most of them completely useless and worth very little. Flynn swung a mesh bag full of canned vegetables over his shoulder. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute,” he told Madison, before stepping off the Seeker. He disappeared behind the shabby curtain on the side of the shack.

  Madison grabbed a long hook and caught the tire hanging on the side of the vendor’s raft, trying to keep the Seeker from drifting away. A few minutes later, Flynn reappeared and was back next to her, holding a coil of nylon rope and two rolls of tin foil. He shoved them under the seat and rummaged through his bag. “These are for you,” he said, handing Madison a pair of goggles. “Every diver needs a good pair.”

  “Thanks!”

  “We’ll modify them later for a better fit.” Flynn was extremely pleased with his successful trade. He had haggled with the vendor over the final price and had managed to come out on top. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, steering the Seeker away from the Black Market stalls.

  “See that guy?” Flynn pointed at the dark-skinned teenage boy. “That’s Pharrell Lewis… him and Clay Adams, over there on the pedals, are our biggest competition!”

  Madison squinted at the shabby raft approaching the Seeker. It was coming back from open waters, moving at a leisurely pace toward the eastern outskirts of the Lower Side. This was where Flynn had dropped anchor for their last day of training. He had decided to stick to the city limits during the week before the Trials, avoiding the risk of another encounter with Leo Van Zand. Madison had worked hard, going through all the drills without a hitch, and Flynn felt she was ready for the big day.

  As their rafts slowly glided past each other, the tall black boy nodded at Flynn. His shaved head shone in the bright sun, and he had a pair of goggles round his unusually thick and muscular neck. Pharrell looked Madison up and down. His eyes stopped on the straw sticking out of her mouth. “This your new Crew Mate, Perry?” Pharrell laughed, pointing at Madison. “Still sucking on a straw, like a little baby!”

  Madison shot him an angry look. She was about to say something back, but Flynn was quicker.

  “Damn right, she is!” he said, throwing his arm over Madison’s shoulder. “And she’ll kick your butts at the Trials tomorrow!”

  “Oh, we’re sooo scared, ain’t we Clay?” Pharrell shared a quick laugh with his buddy then turned back to Flynn, his hands trembling. “See, I’m already shakin’ with fear!”

  The other boy giggled, pressed on the pedals, and their raft sped away quickly.

  “Good luck tomorrow, guys!” Flynn shouted after them.

  “Same to you, Perry!” Pharrell yelled back.

  “Pharrell and Clay are a good team, but not as good as ours!” Flynn told Madison, and realized suddenly that his arm was still around her shoulder. He pulled it away. Luckily, Madison didn’t seem to notice his sudden discomfort. She was too busy glaring after the two boys.

  “Don’t mind him,” Flynn said hastily. “Believe it or not, we’re friends.”

  Madison's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Flue’ns?" She took the straw out of her mouth and said, "Friends? You’ve got to be kidding!"

  “No, I’m dead serious. Doesn’t look it, but we are.”

  Madison threw an angry look at Pharrell’s raft then studied the straw she was holding.

  “Do I really have to keep breathing through this thing?”

  “Yeah! I told you, it strengthens the muscles in your chest. It's an important exercise.”

  “It makes me look stupid!” Madison made a face, rolling the straw between her fingers. “It's embarrassing!”

  “Like I said, don't pay any attention to Pharrell.” Flynn laughed and patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. “We'll beat him and Clay tomorrow!”

  “What’s the big deal anyway?” Madison asked. “Does it matter who’s first and who ends up last at the Trials? Everybody gets to be a Free Scavenger if they make it through to the end, right?”

  “It’s not that simple… First, you’ve got to complete the challenge task… Fail that, and you are out.”

  “There’s no way you’re going to fail… You’re brilliant at scavenging.”

  “Wait, there’s more to this,” Flynn said and put the straw back into Madison’s mouth. “Those who make it through the challenge have to race to the finish line. The first three teams to get there earn a Duncan’s Gold.”

  “Duncan’s Gold? What’s that?”

  “It’s the gold badge Duncan Roth gives to all the winners. It means they can then scav for the good stuff, like canned food, drinks, medicine… the things you’ve seen me bring up…They’re allowed to work in small groups, sometimes with just their own Crew Mate…And they get to live on the Upper Side! It’s a great privilege, you know… Life gets really good once you’re there.”

  “And the others?”

  “Those who end up at the bottom stay on the Lower Side and join the big Industrial Scavenging crews, lifting up the heavy stuff…Vehicles, parts of buildings… and that’s kind of boring, really,” replied Flynn and looked around. “Like these guys over there… C’mon, I’ll show you.” Flynn sat behind the pedals and steered his raft toward a platform, anchored a few hundred feet away.

  The platform was huge and made of large pieces of salvaged pontoons, tied with ropes and held afloat by dozens of empty oil drums. All of its four sides were buffered with old tires. When the Seeker got closer, Madison noticed the big square hole that had been cut in the middle of the platform. Four rusty lamp posts were erected above the hole. Joined at the top, they formed the skeleton of a hoisting frame. A thick cable ran from the hole up, through hooks at the very top of the contraption, coiling around a massive wheel at one end of the platform. It served as a primitive pulley mechanism.

  There was a flurry of activity going on the platform and all around its perimeter. Divers were getting out of the water and hopping onto the smaller rafts, which flanked the platform. Shouting at the top of their lungs, a large group of men had gathered around the hoist wheel. They all grabbed hold of its handles and working together, they began to turn it.

  Madison could now see their muscles bulging under the weight of whatever was attached to the end of the cable. “What are they doing?” she asked.

  “They’re pulling something heavy out of the water… My guess it’s a truck… or a bus,” Flynn replied. “The divers have found it, cleared the debris and attached it to the cables… These guys are bringing it up to the surface.”

  The men were grunt
ing now, their bodies covered in sweat. The wheel was turning slowly, the cable coiling around it. Suddenly, the nose of a van emerged from the hole. The crew hoisted the vehicle until its whole body, covered in barnacles and seaweed, was swinging from the frame above their heads. Water and silt were pouring out of its broken windows. Once the van was secured safely to the frame, two motor boats started tugging the platform towards the nearest harbor.

  “That’s the kind of scavenging job I don’t want to end up doing!” Flynn said quietly, watching the whole procession disappear into the distance.

  “I can see why,” Madison nodded in agreement.

  “Here comes another one.”

  Flynn pointed at a large raft approaching the Lower Side from the east. It carried a rusty section of a big airplane fuselage. He knew they were still exploiting one of the sunken airports, but this kind of cargo was a rare sight. Most planes had already been scavenged, their engines, seats, cockpits, miles of wires and cables pulled out and used for something else on the Archipelago. “Let’s go back now,” he said. “Get us some rest before the big day tomorrow.”

  Flynn pressed on the pedals, turned the raft around…and froze in his tracks! His eyes had met the steely stare of none other than the man everyone called the Rottweiler. This was Duncan Roth, the high-ranking Government official who commanded the Scavenging operations on the Archipelago with an iron fist. But more importantly, he was the man in charge of the Scavenging Trials. Everybody knew that Duncan Roth had been the best free diver in town. His record for staying under water without oxygen was unbeaten to this day. And he had gone up through the ranks of the Free Scavenger Crews, rising quickly to his present lofty position. No one from the Lower Side had ever done this, gone that far and achieved so much. And for this very reason, Duncan Roth was hated and feared by many on the Lower Side… He wasn’t one of theirs anymore… According to Flynn’s father, Roth had betrayed them all by switching sides. “He’s a traitor,” Alan Perry would say… But Flynn didn’t think so… Duncan Roth represented something that Flynn wanted out of life… He wanted to follow in his footsteps... Just like Duncan Roth, Flynn was going to get to the top too… and he was going to make a name of himself.