Floodworld

by Tom Huddleston

  Kara kicked back with all her might, but she was unsteady and her aim was poor. Redeye grabbed her ankle, shaking it, trying to tug her loose.

  Joe cut round the prow of a tall tower. Kara clung to him, Redeye’s hand locked round her ankle. He gave a tug and she slipped back, clutching at Joe’s shirt.

  The Mariner rose behind her. His hair whipped loose around his head. He shifted his balance as the jetski tipped and banked. Kara looked up into his red, gleaming eye. His hands reached for her. Then she heard Joe’s soft voice in her ear. “Get down.”

  Kara ducked. There was a wet smack, and when she looked up Redeye was gone. The roar of the engine filled her ears as they shot beneath a low platform.

  Craning her neck, Kara could see the Mariner on his back in the water, spinning slowly as they powered away. Joe let out a cry of triumph. Kara hugged him. The jetski hurtled off into the night.

  7

  Shore Boys

  “Hang on, hang on, I’m coming.” Colpeper’s voice echoed up through the steel hatch and Kara heard the rattle of bolts. “D’you have any idea what time…? Oh, it’s you.” He raised the hatch, blinking in the pre-dawn cold.

  “Let us in,” Kara said. “Quick, they could be watching.”

  Colpeper backed down the ladder and Joe lowered the hatch behind them. The room below was dry and warm and lit with a dancing chem-lantern.

  “Who’s watching?” Colpeper asked. “What’s going on?”

  Kara shivered. “Give us a drink and I’ll tell you,” she said. “Something hot.”

  They hunkered on the edge of a battered sofa, the salt drying in their hair. From floor to ceiling, the large concrete room was heaped with salvage – engine parts and rubber tyres, barrels of screws and bolts, bags overflowing with musty clothes and even, Kara noticed, an entire shelf of books. The couch was an island in a sea of trash.

  Colpeper pressed mugs of warm chicory into their hands and Kara drank, the heat flooding through her tired limbs. “So come on,” he said, wrapping a mildewed blanket round his shoulders, “what’s so urgent you needed to knock me up in the evil hours?”

  Kara started the story and Joe finished it, Colpeper’s eyes growing wider with each twist. When they reached the part where Redeye hit his head on the low beam he almost clapped. “They should turn it into an action flick,” he grinned. “But this Redeye, you don’t think he’s dead?”

  “He took a hit, but he’s tough,” Kara said. “And anyway, I bet there’s more of them. Whatever he was looking for, he said the world depended on it.”

  Joe swallowed. “Kara, I…” he said, his face reddening. “I maybe should’ve…”

  Guiltily he reached into his pocket and drew out Singh’s evidence bag, unfolding it on his knee. Inside Kara recognised the drawing he’d been carrying the day before, an indecipherable tangle of lines and crosses. “Your spaghetti drawing,” she said. “What does that have to do with…”

  “I didn’t draw it,” Joe admitted, shamefaced. “That Mariner gave it to me. Elroy.”

  Kara gripped the sofa, her knuckles turning white. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “You weren’t there,” Joe said. “He was so scared. I was the last person he’d ever see. It felt … special. I didn’t think it was important, but I didn’t want the cops to take it so I pretended I drew it. Then when Redeye showed up I knew it meant something, but I knew for sure he shouldn’t get it.”

  “But he was going to throttle me,” Kara said incredulously.

  “I nearly gave it to him then. But then he wanted to go to the Spur, and it seemed like if we went there we’d have a better chance of getting away. And we did.”

  Kara drew the paper out, inspecting it from every angle. It was just a jumble of lines and those few scrawled words. In one place, near what she guessed was the bottom, a cross had been marked.

  Colpeper’s brow furrowed. “It might be a map.”

  Joe’s eyes lit up. “Could it lead us to buried treasure?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Colpeper mused. “But these lines could be roads.”

  “I thought roads were mostly straight,” Kara said. “These are all wiggly.”

  “What about the words?” Joe asked. “Sun four, six down, news, Wellington?”

  “Is that an ‘n’?” Colpeper squinted at the smudged lettering. “Could be ‘sud four’, or ‘sug’. But those don’t mean much either.”

  “Well, whatever it is,” Kara said, folding the paper into her pocket, “the Mariners aren’t going to stop until they’ve got it. You have to help us get out of the Shanties.”

  “What for?” Colpeper asked, surprised. “If this paper’s so important you should make them pay for it. I could go with you, work out a deal. On commission, of course.”

  “And what makes you think they won’t kill us all just for having seen it?” Kara objected. “This Redeye isn’t messing around.”

  Colpeper shrugged. “You’re the boss. Let’s see how much money you got.”

  She handed him the scanner and Colpeper’s eyebrows shot up as he checked the readout. “If I’d known about this I’d have been paying you less.”

  “How far can it get us?” Kara asked. “To Canada?”

  He frowned. “It’ll be tight, but maybe. You’ll need papers, but I know where to get ’em. Why not grab some rest? I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

  “Can’t we go now?”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” Colpeper laughed. “And these aren’t the kind of people you just drop in on. I’ll send a runner to make us an appointment, and by morning everything’ll be sorted.”

  He left the room, the door swinging behind him. Joe sat slumped on the sofa, his eyes drooping. “Hey,” he said sleepily. “I just thought of something. When I was telling Redeye what happened to his friend, why did you make me skip the first part?”

  Kara shrugged. “I didn’t know how he’d react if he found out the guy died saving some mudfoot’s life.”

  Joe nodded, and soon his breath began to slow. Kara knew she should stay awake; what if Colpeper tried to trick them somehow? But the warmth of the room and the ticking of the clock soon hypnotised her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  By dawn they were on the move, passing over the bridge at Camden Lock and on to the broad thoroughfare that led down towards Regent’s Village. This was the oldest part of the Shanties, Joe knew, the buildings purposely reclaimed to house the first waves of City workers after the barriers broke. It was the poshest part too, and Kara paused to tuck in her shirt.

  “I hate these fancy places,” she said. “They make me feel poor and dirty.”

  “You are poor and dirty,” Colpeper pointed out.

  “I know, but they don’t have to rub my face in it, do they? They pee out the window like everyone else.”

  “Actually,” Joe said, “Miss Ella told me some of them go indoors now.”

  Kara pulled a face. “That’s disgusting.”

  Joe trotted along, marvelling at the sturdy purpose-built walkways and windows with actual glass in them. “Is this what it’s like inside the Wall?” he asked Colpeper.

  The big man chuckled. “This may be a better class of slum, but it’s still a slum. Inside, things are … well, different.”

  “You’ve been there?” Kara asked.

  Colpeper nodded. “When I was a boy. The Shanties were fairly new then; they didn’t keep the City locked down like they do today. My dad was a caretaker for one of the big banks and once in a while they’d let them bring their kids in, so they could see where they’d be working when they grew up. That didn’t last long. One too many Shanty rats went off on a robbing spree.”

  “What was it like?” Joe asked softly.

  Colpeper shrugged. “Like something from a history book. Everything just like it used to be, before the world fell. The shops, the houses, the cars… It was paradise, really. The sort of place you could spend your whole life trying to get back to.”

 
“So why didn’t you? Your dad could’ve got you a job. You could be in there every day.”

  Colpeper shook his head. “Cleaning up another man’s mess is no way to live.”

  “So you get kids to do your dirty work instead,” Kara muttered.

  They approached a gantry between two white-brick towers, the way barred with reinforced iron gates. A man stood guard; he wore a necklace of polished driftwood and had a starfish tattoo below his right eye. A Shore Boy, Joe realised. They were the biggest gang in the Shanties, descendants of the first Beefs who’d made a fortune plundering the seabed. Every illegal operation outside the Wall, every dodgy deal and criminal conspiracy, the Shore Boys had a hand in it.

  “Mr Zuma,” Colpeper said briskly. “The boss should be expecting us.”

  The guard looked them up and down, tugging a woollen dockers’ cap over his huge bald head. Then he touched a panel on the wall and the gate ground open. “Follow. But no sudden moves.”

  They passed between the towers. High windows looked down, and Joe could see armed men in every one. He felt a tightening in his gut, a sense that they were walking into a situation they couldn’t possibly predict. Then they emerged from the shadows and he heard Kara gasp in surprise.

  Across an expanse of courtyard a building rose three storeys from the water, its outer wall plastered with the largest picture Joe had ever seen. It was an old advertising board: a beach scene with golden sand, sparkling blue water and coloured sails tacking in the distance. The floor of the courtyard was layered with little stones, patches of sand and gnarled lumps of driftwood. Green bushes sprouted from clay pots, sculpted into recognisable shapes: a dolphin springing from a thicket of breakers; a trawler riding emerald waves; a winged woman like a ship’s figurehead.

  In the centre was a table, four chairs and two people. The first stood off to Joe’s left – a young man holding a pair of shears, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of red shorts. Sweat glistened on his back as he snipped at one of the sculptures, a rearing creature Joe recognised from Miss Ella’s books – was it called a horse? At the table a middle-aged woman lay in a reclining chair watching her companion. She wore a cotton bodysuit patterned with brightly coloured flowers, and a pair of enormous pink spectacles. At their approach she rose, flinging her arms wide.

  “Colly!” she barked hoarsely. “You didn’t half get fat.” And she embraced Colpeper, kissing him on the cheek and leaving a bright red smear.

  He struggled free. “You look well, Maura.”

  The woman laughed. “I look like a bag of rags, and we both know it. A working girl has to fight to keep her looks, and it’s a fight I lost a long time ago.” She turned to the guard. “Back to the gate, Zuma. I’ll shout if I need you.” Then she looked down, smiling through pearled teeth. “This must be Joe and Kara. Welcome. I’m Maura Glass. How do you like my beach?”

  Kara looked around, blushing as her eyes passed over the young man in shorts. “It’s … very nice,” she muttered, and the woman snorted.

  “Take a good look, girl. That’s what he’s there for. And to tend to my topiary, of course.” She nudged Colpeper. “That’s not a euphemism.”

  “No, it’s a horse, isn’t it?” Joe asked, and the woman burst out laughing.

  “A horse,” she cackled. “I love it. Sharp as a whip. You’re not looking for a job, are you?”

  “We’re leaving town,” Kara said. “That’s why we’re here. Colpeper said you could get us out.”

  The woman’s smile broadened, but for some reason this only made Joe more nervous. “Right to business, I like that. I’ve got the papers drawn up, if you’ll follow me.”

  She crossed to a set of glass doors and stepped through into a modest well-lit office. The walls were covered with old photographs in driftwood frames; Joe saw people and ships, streets and cars, the world as it used to be. There were sketches too, and maritime maps traced in spidery ink.

  “Look around, Joe,” Maura urged. “These are the last traces of a lost world. Inside the Wall they have their museums and their galleries, but that’s for posh folks. Me and my Shore Boys, we’re the keepers of a different history. A people’s history. And all salvaged from right here under our feet.”

  She closed the doors and Joe felt the knot in his stomach squeeze. There was another small door at the back of the room, but it was shut too. “The forms are all here,” Mrs Glass said, gesturing to her desk. “Passports, fully registered. And two one-way tickets to Canada.”

  Relief crossed Kara’s face and she reached out. But Maura held up a hand. “Not so fast. None of this comes cheap.”

  Kara fumbled in her pocket, pulling out the scanner. Maura swiped it across her wrist. “Now just enter your code.”

  For one urgent moment Joe wanted to tell Kara not to do it; they could take their chances. But where could they go? They were alone, and hunted. She tapped and Joe saw the numbers scroll down to zero. So that’s it, he thought. One way or another they were in this woman’s power.

  Maura smiled thinly. “And the paper? Which of you has it?”

  Joe felt his blood freeze. Kara turned on Colpeper. “You told her?”

  The big man held up his hands. “I couldn’t pass up the chance it was worth something. And you’re on the next boat to Canada; you don’t have to worry.”

  From the corner of his eye Joe had spotted something, a framed picture half hidden by the big oak desk. He squeezed Kara’s hand but she wasn’t paying attention to him.

  “I told you I didn’t want them to have it,” she was saying. “I trusted you. I’m so stupid.”

  Maura snorted. “Can’t argue with that.”

  “I did what’s best for all of us,” Colpeper insisted. “You’re not the only one who benefits here.”

  “Kara,” Joe said, tugging. “Look.”

  She shook him off. “What do you get?” she demanded, facing Colpeper. “We get packed off on a ship; what about you?”

  “He gets his debt wiped,” Maura said. “The Mariners are offering proper money for that little scrap. It’s good timing too. One more week and old Colly wouldn’t have had any kneecaps left.”

  “And what if the paper is dangerous?” Kara asked. “What if the Mariners are planning another attack? What if it means people get killed?”

  Maura laughed. “All this fuss for a piece of paper and you don’t even know what it means.”

  “I know what it means!” Joe screeched, and they turned in surprise. “If everyone can just be quiet for one second, I’ve figured it out.”

  “Joe, please,” Kara said. “This isn’t the time for—”

  “Look,” he said, pointing. “Colpeper was right. It’s a map.”

  They all leant closer, following his trembling finger. On the wall was a framed sheet of paper printed with a tangle of coloured lines. “It’s the same,” Kara said, pulling Joe’s paper from her pocket. The lines matched exactly, weaving round one another. “But what is it?”

  Maura frowned. “It’s just a map of the old underground system from back in the Tech Age. They were supposed to be gathered up and pulped when the Wall was built, but this one slipped through. It’s worth a few bob but I don’t see why the Mariners would be so interested in it.”

  Joe leant in. “This ‘x’,” he said. “It’s here. W-Wet-Westminster.”

  Maura’s eyes narrowed. “Parliament?”

  “Where’s that?” Kara asked. “What does it mean?”

  “It means,” a voice said from behind them, “that you’re all in a lot of trouble.”

  8

  Betrayed

  Redeye’s head was wrapped in bandages, his hair poking through in tufts. His good eye was so bloodshot it almost matched its mechanical twin. He stood in the doorway, backed by a pair of black-bearded henchmen; one was tall and thin as a whip, the other broad-shouldered and scowling.

  “I told you,” he said, lips drawing back over broken teeth. “There’s no hiding from the red eye.”

  Maura�
�s face tightened. “We agreed you’d come for the map after they’d gone. It’s cleaner that way.”

  “I received new orders,” Redeye said. “These children are coming with me.”

  Kara shook her head. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”

  Redeye sneered. “You know, I honestly believed you when you said you knew nothing about that map. I underestimated you, didn’t I?”

  “Maybe you’re not as clever as you think.”

  “And maybe I’ll gut you and hang you out the window for the seagulls – how clever is that?” Redeye held out a hand. “Give it. Now.”

  “Just … wait.” Maura’s eyes darted to the courtyard but there was no sign of her guards. “You’re saying that if we turn over the map and the kids, you’ll leave?”

  Redeye sighed. “Well, that’s where we hit a snag. Because Cortez’s instructions were very clear. Bring the map. Bring the kids. And kill anyone who knows too much.” He tipped his head towards the framed map on the wall. “You just had to go poking around.”

  His men raised their weapons – skeletal machine pistols made of fused black plastic, like no guns Joe had ever seen. One took aim at Mrs Glass, the other at Colpeper. The big man was bent double, a queasy look on his face. “Kara, I’m sorry,” he hissed, his arms wrapped round himself. “I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”

  Kara shook her head. “It’s a bit late for that.”

  Maura had drawn herself upright, her eyes flashing as she faced Redeye. “Nobody points a gun at me in my own house,” she growled. “Nobody.”

  Redeye smiled. “Here’s to new experiences.”

  A shot rang out, deafening in the tiny office. Joe jumped, but to his surprise it wasn’t the Mariners who had fired. Colpeper had slipped a pistol from his waistband, aiming at Redeye. But his hands were shaking and the shot went wild, striking the tall Mariner in the temple and sending him spinning off his feet.