Floodworld

by Tom Huddleston

  Redeye’s second henchman aimed his machine pistol, spraying the room with spiked fibreglass pellets. Joe leapt clear as Colpeper flew backwards across the desk, blood drenching his shirt. He didn’t even cry out as he hit the floor, crumpling into a heap. Maura lunged at Redeye, grabbing for his gun. Joe snatched Kara’s hand. “Come on!”

  The door in the rear wall was unlocked and they slammed through, entering a low, half-lit corridor. Behind them Joe heard Maura cry out, followed by more gunshots. He picked a direction and they ran, past doorways offering glimpses of the rooms within – an armoury stacked with rifles and grenades, a storeroom full of stolen clothes, a barracks room where Shore Boys in green nightshirts snored on metal camp beds. He barely registered any of it; everything was so fast, so hectic, and every time he blinked he saw Colpeper’s face, blank with surprise as he slid across the desk. He was a bad man, Joe knew that. He had betrayed them. But he didn’t deserve to die for it.

  Hearing shouts he glanced back to see Redeye ducking into the corridor, the big Mariner at his heels. Up ahead a door stood wide, and hurtling through they found themselves in a high-ceilinged warehouse that echoed to the rumble of machinery. Ragged Shanty folk huddled round plastic tables, measuring ingredients into metal bowls. A line of steel tanks were linked by industrial piping and the air was filled with a pungent alcoholic reek – the stink of home-brewed Selkie.

  In the far wall a hatch stood open and they ran towards it, sunken red eyes swivelling to stare at them. Joe knew about places like this; the workers would be paid in scraps of food, but what they really craved was the strong Selkie residue they’d receive after every shift. He bit his lip. There was no time to feel bad about it now, no time for anything but running.

  They were halfway across the room when more shots rang out. “Stop,” Redeye barked, striding through the doorway. He fired into the air and light bulbs exploded, the workers shrieking in panic. “Give me what I want and I won’t hurt you. We’ll go back to our ship and leave you in peace.”

  “We’re not stupid,” Kara spat, holding up the map. “Back off or I’ll rip it to shreds and eat it.”

  Redeye laughed. “That paper means everything. Hand it over or I’ll shoot you down and pry it from your hand.”

  There was another round of gunfire and Joe looked up to see two Shore Boys on a high walkway aiming down at Redeye. He fired back, swinging his pistol in a reckless arc, tearing holes in the floor and the walls. The workers scattered in terror and Joe saw one of the Shore Boys waving frantically, screaming something, but it was too late.

  A pellet slammed into one of the steel tanks and it exploded, spraying hot liquid and shards of metal across the warehouse. Joe felt droplets of scalding Selkie spatter across his bare arm, followed by a blast of reeking steam. Fog rolled in, shouts and shots echoing in the gloom.

  They ran for the hatchway, now just a pale outline in the mist. Joe blundered into Kara and together they tumbled down a steep concrete slipway. There was a button on the wall and Joe slammed his hand on it. An iron gate rattled down, sealing them in.

  He took a breath. They were in a small boathouse cut in two by a wooden jetty with a pair of black speedboats moored to it. Daylight came leaking through the open water gates. Kara snatched up a length of loose pipe, smashing the door controls to pieces. “That should hold them.”

  They sprinted to the nearest speedboat, hopping over the gunwale. Kara knelt beneath the dash, using her pipe to knock the housing loose. She tugged out a nest of wires, working quickly and methodically. Joe had heard of her skill as a thief, but she’d always kept that side of herself hidden from him. There was a strange expression on her face as she worked. It almost looked like happiness.

  Then he heard muffled voices and the pounding of fists, and saw the hatch rising an inch, then two. Blood-stained fingers scrabbled through the gap, then it slammed down and he heard a yell.

  “Come on, you piece of junk,” Kara hissed. There was a spark and the speedboat’s engine coughed once, twice, then died. The hatch rose another few inches, a red eye peering through, followed by the barrel of a gun.

  Then the motor caught, roaring into life. Joe crouched in the passenger seat as pellets whined, tearing chunks from the fibreglass hull. He tugged the plastic bear from his pocket, clutching him in both hands as Kara gunned the throttle and they surged forward, barrelling into the sunlight.

  Joe twisted, looking back over his shoulder. In the shadow of the boathouse he could see Redeye ducking beneath the hatch. He leapt into the other boat, tossing the towline free. His companion followed, the boat tipping as he squeezed into the driver’s seat.

  Kara slammed the stick forward and they picked up speed, turning into a narrow channel with high-rise blocks on either side. She hauled on the wheel and they banked hard, water sloshing across the bow as they careened into another wider waterway. The speed made Joe feel giddy. He looked back but could no longer see their pursuers. He could hear the rumble of their outboard, though – lower and more powerful than their own.

  “That’s a petrol engine,” Kara said in amazement. “Who can afford a petrol engine? We won’t outrun them, that’s for sure.”

  They were moving south now, along a busy canal lined with commercial lock-ups and storage depots, wooden derricks swinging out over the water. “Where are we going?” Joe asked.

  Kara shook her head. “Colpeper’s dead. Who else is there?”

  “Miss Ella?” Joe asked, but Kara laughed.

  “Your schoolteacher against the Mariners? I don’t think so.”

  The channel was jammed with delivery skiffs and water taxis, and Joe felt them slowing as Kara jostled for space. The Wall rose ahead, pale on the horizon.

  “It’s market day,” Kara said. “If we can make it to the Pavilion, we might lose them.”

  There was a roar behind them and Joe turned to see the black speedboat clipping the corner of a building less than fifty feet away. Redeye stood upright in the prow, his companion hunched over the wheel. They were low in the water but the engine thrummed powerfully as they ploughed through the traffic, ignoring the boatmen screaming obscenities in their wake.

  “We’re almost at Deepcut,” Kara said. “Get ready to jump.”

  Joe gripped the railing. The stone piers of Deepcut Dock loomed ahead, swarming with people hauling sacks of flour and tubs of fish, bales of cloth and crates of machine parts. Kara was right; it might be enough to hide them.

  Then he heard the rattle of Redeye’s pistol, feeling the boat judder as pellets struck the stern. There was a whining sound and the engine began to hiss like a cornered snake. Joe saw brown liquid pumping out into the water, then with a whoosh the fuel caught fire. He jerked back.

  “Kara,” he coughed. “I think the engine just exploded.”

  She twisted the wheel, momentum carrying them forward. They slammed into the jetty, fibreglass grinding on concrete. Joe clambered from the wreck, following Kara up a steep slipway. He shot a glance back, seeing Redeye’s craft pulling in beside theirs. Then they were over the sea wall, shouldering into the mass of people, and the Mariners were lost from view.

  9

  Free Fire

  Kara squirmed through the crowd clutching her steel pipe. Market day in the Pavilion was a riot of noise and colour; from the Wall to the harbour fence the concrete plaza was a maze of driftwood stalls and patterned canvas. She knew from childhood that they were all meant to have licences and a fixed pitch, but no one seemed inclined to enforce those rules any more – this was every trader for herself, and the result felt as much like a battleground as a bazaar.

  They came to a cleared space ringed with stalls, where Shanty folk sat chatting over plates of reconstituted meatmix and greasy gumbo. Children huddled in grimy gangs, playing games of jump anchor and MetCo vs Mariners. In the centre was a Selkie circle, a ring of seats surrounding a huge steel keg, the vendor keeping his patrons’ glasses topped up as they argued heatedly about the Mariner attack, MetCo
’s response and the Shanty Cup water-polo final next Saturday. Amid all the morning’s mayhem this was a scene that, for a moment at least, made Kara feel almost normal.

  “Everyone’s eating except us,” Joe complained. “I’m starving.”

  “Well, we gave all our money to that woman,” Kara said. “So you’ll just have to live with it.”

  “You could steal something,” Joe suggested. “Like that boat. It was so cool; you were like—”

  “No,” Kara snapped. “I don’t do that any more. Not unless there’s no other option.”

  “But there’s no other option now. Look at that baker. She’s got all her buns lined up; you could just sneak past and— Hey, it’s that MetCo guy!”

  Kara shielded her eyes, seeing the baker handing a paper bag to a man in a blue uniform. He turned, smoothing his moustache. Joe was right. It was Lieutenant Singh.

  “He seemed OK, didn’t he?” Joe said. “And he hates Mariners. I bet he’d help us if we asked him.”

  Kara was doubtful; whoever heard of a MetCo officer going out of his way to help a Shanty rat? But Joe was already hurrying forward so she followed, watching as Singh reached into the bag, handing a green confection to the woman beside him. Kara recognised her too – that government minister, Patricia something, looking at her algae twist with an expression of deep uncertainty.

  “Mr Lieutenant!” Joe shouted, waving his arms. “It’s us! We— Oh no! They’re here!”

  There was a rattle of gunfire, loud as thunder. Singh’s head whipped round.

  Kara skidded to a stop as chaos erupted, people shouting and food flying. She gripped her pipe, turning to see a dark figure moving towards them between the stalls. Redeye raised his machine pistol and fired again, a quick burst into the sky. He hadn’t come alone – Kara saw the big Mariner and two newcomers, weapons drawn as they pushed through the scattering crowd.

  Kara ducked behind the Selkie keg, Joe at her side. Singh had drawn his handgun, shielding the minister as he fired towards the advancing Mariners. Then he spotted Kara and sprinted over, tugging the minister with him. She crouched behind an overturned table, quivering like a plucked string. The square had cleared in seconds; they were the only ones left apart from Redeye and his men. “What on earth is going on?” Singh demanded.

  “It’s complicated,” Kara said, peering over the keg. A kiln had spilled its contents, hot charcoal scattered across a fallen clothes stall. Redeye strode through the flames, his long coat flapping.

  “We found this map,” Joe said. “The Mariners want it back. We were hoping you could hide us or shoot them or something.”

  Kara frowned. “OK. Not that complicated.”

  “What map?” the minister demanded. “What are you children involved in?”

  “We’re not involved,” Joe said. “Bad stuff just keeps happening to us.”

  “Come out, come out!” Redeye’s voice was laced with humour and Kara felt her temper fraying, fear and resentment welling up inside her.

  “Leave us alone!” she shouted from behind the keg. “We’ll give you your stupid map if you’ll just go away.”

  “Oh, it’s too late for that,” Redeye said. “Captain Cortez has taken a special interest in you two. One way or another, you’re coming with me.”

  “She’s not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

  Singh stood, raising his pistol and squeezing off a succession of shots. Redeye yelped in surprise, dropping behind a dismantled food cart. “Who’s that firing?”

  Singh crouched again. “This is Lieutenant Akharee Singh of the Mariner Task Force. And I am placing you under arrest.”

  Redeye barked laughter. “There’s four of us, all armed. I think we can take you.”

  Singh frowned. “He’s right; we’re outnumbered. Reinforcements will come but we can’t stay here.”

  “But he told us what he wanted,” the minister objected. “These children and the map they’re carrying. Let’s just hand them over and be on our way.”

  “Hey,” Kara bristled. “We’re right here, you know.”

  “Joe and Kara came to me for help,” Singh said. “I won’t betray that. It’s not an option.”

  “It most certainly is,” the minister replied. “I came out here for a security inspection, not a gunfight. You will obey my—”

  The keg shook as pellets thudded into it, punching penny-sized divots in the steel. Selkie spilled out across the concrete. “I’m waiting,” Redeye called impatiently.

  Kara raised her head. “Just be honest. If we give you that map, are people going to die?”

  “Maybe,” Redeye admitted. “But if you don’t, people are also going to die. You.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so confident about that,” a voice said, and Kara turned in surprise.

  On the far side of the square stood a gang of bearded men, all heavily armed and armoured. The Shore Boys fanned out to reveal Maura Glass in the centre, her floral trouser suit splashed with blood.

  “Wow,” Joe said. “It’s like everyone we know is here.”

  Maura took a step towards Redeye, her eyes flashing with fury. “I told you, no one pulls a gun on me in my home. Now you will pay the price for your insolence.”

  Redeye ducked as the Shore Boys began shooting, clouds of concrete and shards of wood exploding across the square. The Mariners fired back, using the collapsed stalls as cover.

  Singh watched in bewilderment. “How is Maura Glass mixed up in this?”

  Joe opened his mouth and shut it again. “OK, that bit is quite complicated.”

  “Attention!” Another voice boomed through a loudhailer and Kara felt her head spin. “This is MetCo. We have you surrounded. Lay down your weapons.”

  A platoon of riot troops came charging through the smoke firing wildly. The Shore Boys ducked for cover and Maura waved her arms. “Don’t shoot at us!” she shouted. “Shoot at them!”

  The cops skidded to a halt, turning. But the big Mariner rose to his feet, a gleaming silver cylinder balanced on his shoulder. There was a growing hum, electricity rippling along the length of the tube. Then there was a burst of blue flame and three stalls exploded, armoured cops flying into the air like skittles. Kara ducked as a wave of heat rolled over them.

  “A hand-held energy cannon,” the minister said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Those are my men they’re murdering,” Singh snarled.

  Kara clutched her steel pipe. “I think we should go, while everyone’s shooting each other.”

  “I don’t want to,” Joe said as pellets struck the concrete all around them. “I think we’re OK here.”

  “I’ll keep you safe,” Kara promised. “But we need to get out of here.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

  They looked up. Redeye stood over them, his machine pistol in his hand. He was bleeding from a wound in his arm and numberless grazes on his face. Behind him all was smoke and noise.

  “Drop the pistol,” he told Singh. “Kara, put down the pipe and come with me.”

  She started to rise but Singh tugged her back, placing his pistol on the ground and glaring at Redeye. “You’ll never make it out alive. If Kara and Joe go with you, they’ll die too.”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Redeye told him.

  “But I’m not,” Singh said. “Just take this map of yours and—”

  “Quiet.” The minister had snatched up Singh’s pistol and now she pressed it to the back of the lieutenant’s neck. “You will let him take the children. No, don’t turn round. Remember I can make life very difficult for you and Mr Remick, and for everyone at MetCo.”

  Singh frowned, and for a moment Kara thought he was going to stand firm. Then he sagged, letting go of her hand. “Kara, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright,” she said, climbing to her feet and hauling Joe up with her. She reached into her pocket and drew out the map, offering it to Redeye. “Take it.”

  He snatched it from her. T
he gunfire had begun to abate, withdrawing to the edges of the square. “Don’t worry,” Redeye said. “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

  Kara was confused. “Wait, what?”

  But he was already closing in, bright steel gleaming in his fist. She felt the needle slide into her neck, felt the world spin and slip away, then she was lost in darkness.

  10

  Humpback

  “Kara?” The voice was plaintive and half awake. “Are we going to die?”

  She rolled on to her back. Her hands and feet were bound. She tried to open her eyes but the world kept slipping. “Joe,” she managed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  He sighed. “It already sort of did. You did your best, though.”

  Kara forced her eyes open. They were in a small room, pale light leaking through a porthole overhead. The wooden floor was rocking gently. “Are we on a boat?”

  Joe sat propped against the wall, his hands tied in front of him. “We’re at sea. You’ve been asleep for ages. More than a day.”

  She blinked groggily. “How did we get off the Pavilion?”

  He shrugged. “It was all pretty hectic. More MetCo guys came and there was lots of shooting, then Redeye’s friend Pavel blew stuff up with his energy cannon. Redeye carried you and we ran until we got to a little boat, and then that boat took us to a bigger boat, and they kept shoving me and I fell over and broke my bear.” He held up the plastic figure. One of its arms had snapped off.

  Kara wriggled up on to her feet, hopping to the door and trying the handle. Locked. She crossed back to the porthole, stretching on her tiptoes. The ocean was flecked with diamonds, the horizon just a blur between the grey water and the grey sky. “I’ve never seen the sea without buildings in it before,” she breathed. “It’s so … big.”

  “I think we’re going south,” Joe said. “The sun’s been going down behind us. If you see any land, it might be France. Or the next one down. Spade.”