Final Storm

by Deborah Abela

  ‘Destination, Jeremiah.’

  After Xavier programmed the address into Aleksander’s phone, the Armapod navigated through the narrow streets to the edge of the city and into a series of gloomy alleyways crammed with identical grey buildings.

  Griffin stared at the dismal apartment covered in graffiti with metal shutters across the windows. ‘Is this where he’s living?’

  Xavier checked his phone. ‘That’s the address he gave me.’

  They entered the foyer, which was littered with broken toys and furniture and bags of rubbish. They climbed the dingy stairwell to Jeremiah’s flat and knocked. Heavy footsteps scraped across the floor and the door opened a crack.

  Jeremiah clutched Snowy to his chest. His face broadened into a wide smile, before it came crashing down. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’

  He lifted the chain from the door and hurried them in, checking the corridor. His beard was knotted and his hair stuck out in wild clumps. ‘It mightn’t be safe.’

  He turned several locks before noticing Xavier’s broken arm. ‘What happened?’

  Griffin shook his head, warning Xavier not to say anything.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Xavier said. ‘Sports accident.’

  ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘Wonder Boy lent us the Armapod.’

  ‘That’s very generous.’

  ‘He’s my hero,’ Xavier sneered.

  Griffin’s heart fell at the state of the flat. The windows were taped with cardboard and a dim single light bulb lit up a few mismatched chairs and an old picnic table crowded with papers and a computer. Dishes were piled high in the sink beside half-eaten tins of baked beans. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Sure, we are.’ Jeremiah stroked the bear’s cheek. ‘Aren’t we, Snowy?’

  Griffin swapped a worried look with Xavier.

  Jeremiah moved piles of books and clothes from chairs. ‘Please sit. Can I get you something?’

  A cockroach scrambled over the dishes. ‘No thanks.’ Xavier tucked his good hand in his pocket.

  Jeremiah looked frail and nervous and Griffin worried their news wouldn’t help. ‘Sneddon’s back.’

  He frowned as if Griffin had spoken another language. ‘But he was on the ship … he …’

  ‘Didn’t drown after all,’ Xavier said. ‘Don’t worry, we’re disappointed too. And he’s changed his name to Phineas Snowden.’

  Jeremiah pushed his hair from his eyes and it fell back in a floppy wave. ‘How do you know it’s Sneddon?’

  ‘We went to see him.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have.’ Jeremiah clutched Snowy even tighter. ‘You have to stay away from him. He’s very dangerous.’

  ‘We think he had something to do with Isabella going missing,’ Griffin said.

  Jeremiah frowned. ‘But she isn’t missing. She’s with her mother.’

  ‘That’s just it,’ Griffin insisted. ‘I don’t think it’s her mother.’

  Jeremiah riffled through papers on the table until he found his phone. ‘She sent this.’ He showed them a picture of Isabella with her mother at a mountain resort. ‘Her weather detector confirmed she’s in a village called Monthaven.’

  Griffin stared at the photo of Isabella and her mum in matching jackets in the snow. He was so certain her mother wasn’t real. ‘So she’s safe?’

  ‘Luckily, yes.’ Jeremiah’s shoulders slumped. ‘Which is more than we can say for New City now that Byron Sneddon is here.’

  Griffin’s temper flooded back. ‘We found out something else. He created the ice storms, which is why your modelling couldn’t predict them.’

  Jeremiah sank onto a stool and gave the bear a weak smile. ‘You were right, Snowy.’

  Xavier had never been very patient when it came to Jeremiah’s stuffed toy. ‘He’s been manipulating the weather so he can sell his climate engineering technology and become everyone’s new favourite hero.’

  ‘Climate engineering,’ Jeremiah said with a sad shake of his head. ‘We didn’t guess that, did we, Snowy?’

  Griffin pulled up a chair and sat in front of the old man, trying to keep him focused. ‘He’s planning a demonstration tomorrow. We need to show the world he can’t be trusted.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Two ways.’ Xavier grinned. ‘With the papers you brought from Grimsdon and proof he created the ice storms.’

  ‘You found proof?’ Jeremiah asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Griffin answered. ‘But we will.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We’ll have a friendly chat with Wonder Boy.’ Xavier smiled at the thought. ‘He might know something from when he worked at Future World Solutions.’

  ‘Defeating Sneddon will be hard. Dangerous even,’ Jeremiah warned. ‘He doesn’t take kindly to those who interfere with his plans.’

  ‘Oh, we know.’ Xavier grabbed Jeremiah’s coat and held it out for him. ‘That’s why spoiling his plans the second time is going to be even more fun.’

  ‘Will you help us?’ Griffin asked.

  Jeremiah placed Snowy on the table. ‘Give me five minutes to tidy myself up and then let’s get him.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  A Trip to the Haggle

  Isabella woke to a sharp bolt of sunlight streaming through the window. She had no idea how long she’d slept or where she was, but it only took moments for her to remember.

  She was in Grimsdon.

  And it was because of Sneddon.

  She didn’t know why or how she’d got there, but what she did know was this – he’d tried to kill her once and failed, just like he would this time.

  Throwing off her blankets, the creeping cold jolted her awake even further. Sifting through her old drawers, she swapped her pyjama pants for jeans, zipped into a pair of boots and buttoned up her coat. She tucked her sword into its sheath and buckled it around her waist.

  She had to get back to New City. For that, she needed Raven.

  Raven was the leader of the Haggle, a vast warren of scavenged goods in the ruins of the old Parliament House. When Isabella and her friends left Grimsdon, Xavier gave his Aerotrope to Raven. If she could reach him, she could use the Aerotrope to get home. Or at least beyond the floodwaters.

  To get there, she’d need something else.

  Xavier had kept his Velocraft tied to a balcony outside the Palace. It was a covered pedal-powered rowboat. If Isabella was lucky, it might still be there and she could use it to sail to the Haggle.

  She took a deep, hopeful breath and raced downstairs to the lower levels, where the floodwaters lapped against the building. Please, please, please be there, she whispered as she ran. At the window, she stopped, making a final wish before she climbed onto a metal fire escape.

  The Velocraft was gone.

  The rope was still there, tied to the railing and wavering in the water like a sea snake. After a year of storms and sneaker waves, there was nothing left. As if it never existed.

  Fine, Isabella thought. If I can’t reach the Haggle by water, I’ll find another way.

  She scanned the street. Barnacles clung to the water’s edge and creepers climbed the walls and balconies, all the way to the top.

  The rooftops, she thought and quickly scrambled back inside.

  Xavier’s room had always looked like a bomb had exploded and today was no different. Isabella picked through his clothes that lay on chairs and cupboards, she opened his trunk and wardrobe until her boot stubbed against something hard under a pile of blankets on the floor. She peeled them aside and saw a spear gun. ‘I should have looked here first.’

  Isabella slung the holster strap over her head, tightening the buckle so the spear gun sat snugly against her back. Making her way to the top of the building, she stepped onto the roof’s edge.

  Murky waters swirled far below. If she slipped or the rope broke or she landed badly, she’d fall. If she was lucky, she’d hit the water and not be too winded. If luck was against her, she wouldn’t survive.

  Pushing
those thoughts away, she fixed her gaze on the building opposite, took aim and pressed the trigger.

  A multi-pronged spear attached to a rope flew across the gap and caught on the lip of the roof. She gave a brief nervous laugh. Tugging to check it was secure, she took a steadying breath and jumped.

  Her body swung through the air. Her boots bounced twice against the wall before she hoisted herself onto the fire escape and used the rope to pull herself to the top. Using the spear gun wouldn’t be as fast as the Velocraft, but if she chose the right buildings she could be there before dark.

  Isabella aimed for balcony railings or bars on windows. She ran through abandoned banks and apartments, up stairs into attics and belfries and swung across alleyways and wide avenues.

  During her next jump, her boot slipped and she slammed into a stone wall, tearing the breath from her lungs. Her grip on the rope loosened and she slid, before managing to get hold again. Isabella held on tight, annoyed that she’d been so careless, and managed a few short breaths before climbing through the nearest window.

  Once inside, she lay on the floor, nursing her injured shoulder. Pain surged in waves but she had to keep going. She had to get home.

  Favouring her good arm, she swung from one building to another. Focusing carefully on every jump.

  As she climbed onto another rooftop, she saw it. Parliament House.

  It sat like a sea dragon with a long spiky body and a tall clock tower for a neck and head, and at the top, a gleaming clock face like an unblinking eye.

  Only a few more buildings and she’d be there.

  With a renewed burst of energy, she concentrated on every move, extra cautious not to mess up, not when she was this close. But when she stood on the building opposite parliament, she knew this last jump would test her strength.

  And the length of the rope.

  She judged the distance and knew it would be close. With both boots firmly planted on the edge, she pulled the trigger and the spear hurtled through the air.

  Isabella held her breath. She watched the rope unwind, wishing it to be long enough, when, just as she thought it wouldn’t reach, it landed on a balcony. She let out a cheer. Pulling it towards her, the prongs hooked onto the railing.

  She pumped the air with her fist, before tightening her grip on the rope and taking a deep breath. She jumped, launching herself into the air. The cool breeze rushed past her cheeks. Her boots landed against the ancient stones, just above the waterline.

  Using the rope to scale the building, she scrambled up and over a series of balconies until she reached the one with the hook. With her good arm, hoisted herself over. Withdrawing the rope, she tucked the spear into its holster and stepped over the fallen doors.

  Gripping her sword in front of her, Isabella made her way along the darkened corridors. Sickly streams of light drizzled through the broken windows and bloated portraits of men hung crookedly or had fallen to the floor. The dank carpet stung her nose and the walls and floor were streaked with mud.

  An ominous quiet lurked in the halls interrupted by a cold, snivelling wind. At the end of a series of corridors, she reached the double doors that guarded the Haggle.

  They were unlocked. She held her sword high, pushed them open with her boot and was met with a scene of desolation.

  No one was there. And hadn’t been for a long time.

  There was almost no furniture and what had been, she guessed, was now ash in the bottom of blackened fire drums. The floor was streaked with swirls of dirt, and toys, books and clothes were strewn everywhere. Grubby mattresses and cushions were pushed against walls, alongside sagging blankets that were once homemade forts.

  Raven had never fit in with the regular world before the floods, so he chose to stay with the kids in the Haggle, but he knew they’d have to leave one day.

  Isabella saw a yellowed sheet hanging limply from the wall. She smiled. Raven’s code. She lifted a corner and read them out loud.

  ‘No theft among traders. A fight won fairly is a fight won. All unresolved disputes will be settled by Raven.’

  When she’d first met Raven, he ruled the Haggle with a firm but gentle hand. The group of lost kids he looked after were his family. Hurt them, and he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you.

  A loud bang sounded behind her. She spun round, sword ready to fight off attackers, but there was no need. It was a loose shutter buffeted by the wind. She was utterly and completely alone.

  Just as Sneddon had planned.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  An Unlikely Hero

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Pain, but I’m not authorised to do that.’

  The balding man shifted awkwardly, as if someone had left a tack on his seat. He wore a badge on his cardigan, which declared, Albert Strum, Chief Archival Officer. ‘It’s against the rules since you …’ he lowered his voice. ‘No longer work for the government.’

  Jeremiah, Griffin and Xavier were in the basement of the Halls of Government where they kept the Archives. They stood before a counter that was shrouded in yellow light.

  ‘I understand, Bert.’ Jeremiah nodded. ‘It’s important to follow the rules.’

  ‘It is, yes.’ Albert dabbed his hanky against his forehead. ‘If we didn’t follow the rules where would we be?’

  Griffin stuck to the plan they’d made in the Armavan. Jeremiah would play the good guy while Griffin and Xavier got what they wanted. He was also secretly pleased he could quote Isabella. ‘But don’t you think, Mr Strum, rules deserve to be broken when they don’t make any sense?’

  ‘Or when lives are at stake?’ Xavier added.

  ‘Sorry?’ Albert eyed Xavier as if he’d heard incorrectly.

  ‘What if we were to tell you …’ Griffin leaned forward, causing Albert to do the same. ‘That the future of New City depended on getting those files?’

  Albert’s face pinched with worry. ‘It does?’

  ‘Not only that –’ Xavier glanced over each shoulder ‘– but the safety of you and everyone you love is at risk and you could save them.’

  ‘Me?’ Albert, it was safe to assume, had never thought of himself as someone who could save people.

  ‘I always knew you had it in you.’ Jeremiah poked the air, smiling knowingly.

  ‘You did?’ His chest puffed up.

  ‘Absolutely. You’re as good a man as any I’ve met, but I also understand that it’s important to do your job.’

  ‘It is …’ Albert wavered, not sure what he was agreeing to.

  ‘But we are facing an impending tragedy,’ Xavier reminded him.

  ‘We are?’

  ‘Sadly, yes,’ Jeremiah added, his voice grave.

  ‘Then we must do something,’ Albert declared.

  ‘Spoken like a true hero,’ Griffin said to Jeremiah. ‘You were right about him.’

  Xavier rubbed his chin and frowned. ‘But how can Albert help the world while not breaking any rules?’

  ‘Strictly speaking,’ Griffin said. ‘The rules say Jeremiah can’t enter the archives, but you can, Mr Strum.’

  ‘That is true,’ Albert considered.

  ‘And who’s to say –’ Xavier was at his most charming ‘– that when you retrieved those files you left them on the counter, not knowing someone would borrow them, until they brought them safely back?’

  Albert was uncertain. ‘Lives at risk, you say?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Bert.’ Jeremiah nodded.

  ‘What do you need?’

  In a dimly lit room at the back of an empty cafe – with its doors locked and shutters closed – Jeremiah, Griffin and Xavier sat opposite a disguised Premier Albright. Wearing a high-collared trench coat and false glasses, he read through documents, while two security staff stood guard. His face darkened the more he read.

  ‘Sorry about the setting.’ Albright was about to lean on the table when he noticed how dusty it was. ‘But you understand I couldn’t meet you at the Halls of Government, not after everything that’s happened.’

&nbs
p; ‘I understand.’

  Griffin saw Jeremiah flinch, which made his temper flare.

  ‘And you’re sure Phineas Snowden and Byron Sneddon are the same man?’

  ‘Sneddon bullied us for years, Premier,’ Griffin said. ‘I’d know him anywhere.’

  ‘Sir,’ Xavier said. ‘Those documents prove you have to stop Sneddon.’

  ‘All these documents prove is that he was once sceptical about the threat of a changing climate, like many people.’

  ‘He wasn’t just sceptical, he campaigned against it for years. Despite being told the facts.’

  ‘He knew the floods were going to happen,’ Griffin insisted. ‘But instead he ruined the reputations of Jeremiah and the other scientists and turned the government against them. And he’s doing it again.’

  Albright was defensive. ‘The Bureau wasn’t doing its job.’

  ‘Because Sneddon has been interfering with the weather!’

  A guard approached Mr Albright. ‘’Scuse me, sir, we must go.’

  Albright rose from his chair.

  Griffin panicked. They couldn’t let him leave. Not yet. ‘What will you do, sir, about Sneddon?’

  ‘Maybe he is trying to make amends for his past.’

  Xavier curled his lip. ‘He’s not the amends-making kind of guy.’

  ‘So you want me to stop the man who can control dangerous storms that have plagued us for years?’

  ‘Yes,’ Griffin said. ‘Because he’s the one who has been making them worse.’

  ‘Do you have proof?’

  ‘Not yet, but we’ll get it.’

  Albright fixed his gaze on all three of them. ‘We have been working with Future World Solutions for over a year. We have no reason to distrust them.’

  ‘What if we give you a reason?’ Xavier asked.

  ‘Let me know the second you find hard proof.’

  Griffin smiled. ‘It will be our pleasure.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A Close Call

  Isabella climbed the creaking staircase to the roof of the Haggle. She had to use the full force of her good shoulder to ram the door open, which was bloated and warped from rain.