Floodworld

by Tom Huddleston

  “We’ve got plenty of grenades,” Maura said. “But how do we get close enough without them killing us?”

  “You need a distraction,” Kara said. “Me and Nate can take care of it.”

  The Mariner boy sighed. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

  27

  The Kraken

  Kara squared her jaw as they strode towards the Kraken, trying to mask the fear running like cold acid in her veins. Her throat was dry, her bare feet were scraped raw and her ridiculous peach dress was smeared with blood and grime. She saw dark eyes lifting from their rifle scopes, the submarine’s rocket banks taking steady aim. A squad of Mariners moved to intercept them, others emerging from the rubble. So far the distraction was working.

  “The indestructible girl,” a familiar voice said. “Cortez knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

  Redeye stepped from the smoke, his sealskin coat in tatters. His face was paler than ever, and Kara could see the strain in his eyes as he forced a smile. He’s scared, she realised. Scared they’re going to lose. Scared Cortez isn’t as all-powerful as he’s always believed.

  “I’ve come for Joe,” she said. “Where is he?”

  “He’s safe,” Redeye replied, gesturing. “I’ll take you to him.”

  But Kara stood firm. They needed to give Maura more time. “Sorry for ruining your big plan,” she said. “I guess Cortez won’t get to rule the Shanties after all.”

  Redeye reacted just as she’d hoped he would, turning back to glare at her. “It was never about ruling. You made things difficult, but it won’t matter in the end. The Shanties will be ours and everything will be better. You’ll see.”

  “No, I won’t,” Kara said flatly. “Cortez is going to kill me. You know that, don’t you?”

  Redeye flinched, unable to hide his discomfort. Strange, Kara thought, after he’d tried so many times to end her life. But was that fair? In fact, he’d had numerous opportunities and never quite taken them. Even in the tunnel he must’ve known she’d stood a chance. He was an odd one.

  She heard shouts in the distance, followed by the flash of rockets. The soldiers began to turn, raising their weapons, but Kara grabbed Redeye’s arm, pulling him towards her. “Wait,” she said. “I … I want to say … um, something.”

  Light flared and Redeye’s mouth tightened. “What is this? One last trick?”

  Kara smiled apologetically. “Well, you do keep falling for them.”

  There was a series of muffled pops, like firecrackers in a tin can. Kara dropped, Nate ducking down beside her. Redeye twisted towards the sound, his good eye opening wide as the Kraken’s fuel cells erupted, tearing the side from the submarine in a burst of blue fire.

  Heat rolled over them and Kara felt her hair singe. She looked up to see the submarine tilting sickeningly then righting itself, the gangplank lifting off the dock and smashing back down. Clouds of steam billowed furiously and there was a scream like a thousand kettles boiling at once.

  The explosions faded and Kara started up, pulling Nate towards the sub. Then she heard a moan like a wounded animal and saw a figure crouching in the fog, hands pressed to his face.

  “Redeye?” she asked. “Are you—”

  Redeye staggered to his feet, hands dropping away. Kara gasped. His artificial eye still blazed, the metal casing undamaged. But the right side of his face had taken the full force of the blast, melting his skin, scorching his hair and destroying his good eye.

  “I’m blind!” he howled, flinching as another blast shook the dock. “I can’t see!”

  Kara reached for him but he stumbled away, weaving through the rubble and vanishing into the smoke. They heard a last wail of horror, then he was gone.

  Kara turned to the sub. Mariners were spilling from the hatchway and down the twisted gangplank, their hair and uniforms smoking. They streamed past, fleeing into the gloom.

  Nate peered up uncertainly. “You really want to go in there? Everyone else is running away.”

  “Joe’s up there,” Kara said. “We don’t have a choice.”

  Joe grasped the railing of the balcony as the Kraken shook, almost throwing him off his feet. Cortez stood with his legs apart, riding the chain of tremors. He was wreathed in steam and infernal light, fires blazing across the submarine below.

  “Father,” Cane said from the doorway, “please. We have to go.”

  The quakes subsided and Cortez turned. His eyes were distant, as though he was barely there at all. “Run away?” he said. “Your people are fighting and you want to flee?”

  Joe peered down but all he could see were flames and fog. The gunfire seemed to have petered out; he could hear distant shouts and the groan of melting metal.

  “No, I just…” Cane struggled. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Cortez sneered. “Real Mariners don’t run. We see things through.”

  “I’m a real Mariner,” Cane insisted, tears springing into her eyes. “If you want to stay, we’ll stay.”

  “No!” Joe protested. “Cane, the battle’s over. You’re right, we need to run. If your father wants to stay, let him.”

  “Silence!” Cortez roared. “You already took one of my children from me; I won’t let you take the other.”

  “But she’ll die,” Joe said. “We all will.”

  “And who’s fault will that be?” Cortez spat. “I came here with good intentions. I came to save your stinking Shanties. It was Kara who ruined everything. I should have listened to Redeye and killed you both while I had the chance. I should have … should have…”

  An ugly smile spread across his face and his hand dropped to his belt. Slowly he unclipped his holster, drawing out a slender black pistol. He looked at it for a moment, then he held it out to Cane, his hand steady as the submarine shook.

  “You say you’re a real Mariner.” He nodded towards Joe. “Prove it.”

  Cane took the pistol, looking from her father to Joe. Then realisation crashed in and she staggered, shaking her head. “Daddy, no,” she said. “Please don’t make me—”

  “I gave you an order,” Cortez snapped. “I am still your commanding officer.”

  Cane swallowed and aimed the gun at Joe, her hands trembling violently. He saw terror in her eyes, but to his surprise he felt himself smiling.

  “It’s OK,” he said. “I know you won’t do it.”

  Cane frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “Because of your brother,” Joe said. “Elroy couldn’t kill me. Neither will you.”

  “Don’t you speak about my son,” Cortez growled. “Elroy would’ve stood by me to the end.”

  “No, he was good,” Joe argued. “Remember what he told me? He was sorry.”

  “Sorry for leaving me,” Cortez snarled. “Sorry for dying before we could carry out our plan.”

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant. I think he was sorry for everything he’d done before. You made killing people sound easy, but when he came face to face with it he couldn’t.”

  “Cane, shoot him!” Cortez cried, his voice thick with anger and sorrow. “Now!”

  “Daddy, no!” Cane screamed. “I can’t.”

  “You’re weak!” he roared, stamping his foot. “Everyone around me is so weak!”

  “I’m not,” Kara said, and stepped through the doorway.

  Cane froze, the gun still pointed at Joe. Cortez’s face twisted as he drove his anger down, forcing himself to smile. It didn’t reach his eyes; they were as cold and blue as sea ice.

  “At last,” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d never come.”

  “Your submarine’s sinking,” Kara told him. “Your soldiers have run away. Now I’m going to take Joe and leave while there’s still time.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Cortez replied. “I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

  “Don’t you touch her,” Nate said, emerging from the sub.

  Cortez’s expression broke, and he almost l
aughed. “Oh, this is perfect. My favourite traitor.” He looked the boy up and down, shaking his head. “I always knew you’d betray us. Your aunt will be so ashamed when she hears how you turned on your own people.”

  Nate flushed. “She’ll be proud of me for standing up to a bully like you.”

  Cortez growled. Then he reached for Cane, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Good news, daughter. I’m letting you off the hook for young Joe.”

  Cane sagged with relief, lowering the gun.

  “You can shoot the traitor instead. You’ve always hated him.”

  Cane turned pale, her mouth working. “But … but I…”

  “Not this again. Shoot him!”

  Cortez’s face was warped with resentment and bitterness. He’s trying to make himself feel strong, Joe realised. Everything’s gone to pieces, and this is all he can do.

  Cane jerked towards Nate, biting back a sob. The balcony shook and deep below them Joe heard a sound building, a series of dull thumps like a giant’s footsteps.

  Nate put up his hands. “Cane, listen. If you don’t shoot me, I’ll do your gutting-room shifts for, like, a year.”

  She snorted laughter, crying at the same time. The noise grew louder. Cortez squeezed her shoulder. “Do it,” he whispered.

  Cane squeezed the trigger and Nate flew back, knocked off his feet by the impact. Kara cried out, Cane screamed, and Joe heard the dull thump of a compressed explosion.

  Everything turned to fire.

  The sub’s prow erupted, white-hot hull plates spinning, a jet of searing flame shooting directly upward. Cortez threw himself forward, shoving Cane clear as the balcony was consumed. Kara pulled Joe through the doorway, her arms tight round him, the roar loud in his ears.

  Cortez shrieked, his uniform ablaze, his limbs flailing. Cane cried out but Joe held her back, feeling his eyebrows singe. Then the fire subsided and Cortez dropped to the grated steel balcony, kicking and writhing. Joe remembered that day on the Spur, the burning man on the jetty, the start of all this madness. Cortez rolled, then lay still.

  Hearing a groan, Joe was amazed to see Nate picking himself up, weaving unsteadily on his feet. He reached under his jacket and drew out his computer tablet; the screen was shattered, a fibreglass pellet flat in the centre. “Wow,” he said. “This thing really came in useful after all.”

  Kara took the gun from Cane, throwing it over the railing. The girl’s face was blank, her hands shaking as she stepped on to the balcony, dropping at her father’s side. Behind them the Pavilion was a maze of flame, outshining the last red flush on the horizon. The towers were black, the Wall shrouded in grey. The world was blood and smoke.

  “He’s alive,” Cane said, squeezing her father’s wrist. “I think he’s alive.”

  Joe looked at her, and didn’t know what to say.

  Then the sub shook and Nate grabbed the door frame. “We have to leave.”

  “The whole place is on fire,” Kara said. “We’ll never make it.”

  Nate’s face fell. “You mean we’re stuck here?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Joe said. “It’s dangerous, but I think it’ll work.”

  Kara nodded. “Show me.”

  Joe clambered up on to the railing, steadying himself as the balcony shook. The sub had listed so steeply that he was almost over the water. “A good jump out and I think we can make it.”

  Kara peered down, her face full of doubt. Below them the sub’s cylindrical body glowed with incandescence. “I don’t know,” she frowned. “This seems a bit crazy, even for you.”

  He laughed. “You never just trust me,” he said, and jumped.

  Kara grabbed the railing, biting back a cry. But Joe cleared the hull by several feet, knifing into the water. For a moment the surface was still, reflecting the flames. Then he rose, giving a thumbs up. Kara breathed out, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Nate, you next,” she said. The boy began to protest and she took his arm. “Don’t go soft on me, not after all we’ve been through.”

  Nate sighed. “I have been pretty brave, haven’t I?”

  “The bravest,” Kara said, helping him up. “Now jump.”

  He hit the water with a splash, and came up spluttering. Joe took his hand and together they kicked for the sea wall.

  “We need to lift him,” Cane said, taking Cortez under the arms. “Here, grab his feet.”

  But Kara shook her head, gesturing over the railing. “He’ll never make it. He’ll hit the deck.”

  “Not if we both push,” Cane said. “Come on, he’ll burn if he stays here.”

  Kara nodded. “Yes. He will.”

  Cane looked up slowly. “You told Nate to go first so he couldn’t help,” she realised. “You knew he’d want to try.” She struggled but her father was a dead weight. With a shout of frustration she let him drop. “If you do this you’re a murderer.”

  “I’m a murderer?” Kara asked. “You’re the one who shot Nate.”

  Cane blushed fiercely. “But I… But he…”

  “Your father forced you, is that it?” Kara asked. “You’re as crazy as he is.”

  “He’s not crazy.” Cane took a step forward. “He’s a great man.”

  “And I suppose he’s still going to save the world,” Kara sneered. “Give me a br—”

  Cane’s fist slammed into her face.

  Kara staggered back, blood pouring from her nose. Flames coiled below them, jets of steam hissing from the hull. She faced the girl, working her fingers, trying to remember the last time she’d been in a real fight. Not like that tussle on the Neptune, but the sort of fight where you genuinely didn’t know who’d still be standing, or how many eyes they’d have left.

  She feinted and dropped, barrelling into Cane at chest height. They slammed into the railing and Kara clawed, trying to drag her down. Cane threw a punch and Kara stumbled back, shaking the pain loose. Then she hunched her shoulders, feeling strength flow into her fists.

  The sub trembled and the balcony tipped further, out over open water. Cane stumbled and Kara lunged again, grabbing with both hands. They hit the sloping floor, rolling and kicking. Kara felt Cane’s elbow in her face and twisted, slamming her into the steel grating. In her weariness and confusion she could barely tell where she ended and the other girl began; they were like one exhausted body, cursing and writhing on the smoking deck.

  She could hear Cane sobbing now, blinded with tears as she lashed out and missed, lashed out and missed. It was time to end this.

  Kara grabbed the girl, pulling her to her feet. Summoning the last of her strength she drove her towards the railing, slamming her into it as the Kraken shook.

  “No,” Cane protested weakly as Kara reached down to grab her ankles. “Don’t—”

  But by then she was already falling, toppling over the railing and into the black water.

  Kara turned back, breathing hard. The fire below seemed to have abated, the submarine sinking slowly into the steaming sea. Cortez lay slumped on the steel. His face was scorched and streaked with grime, but with a start Kara noticed that his eyes were open.

  “So it’s just you and me,” he said weakly, spitting blood. “Here, at the end.”

  “You’re going to die,” Kara said. “I’m not going to save you.”

  Cortez nodded. “Good.” He dragged himself into a sitting position. “You know, I still don’t understand why you did it, Kara. Those city people made your life hell and you just forgave them.”

  “I did it for the Shanties,” she said, climbing on to the railing. “To prove we aren’t all monsters like you.”

  Cortez laughed but it turned to wet, red coughing. “Everyone’s a monster like me. They just don’t show it.”

  “That’s what people like you always think. But Joe’s not; he never will be. Nate’s not, and I don’t think Cane is either.”

  “What about you, though?” Cortez smiled through blistered lips. “You do what needs to be done. They couldn’t have left me to
die, but you can. Admit it, deep down you’re a monster too.”

  Kara perched, staring down at him. It would be so easy; all she had to do was fall backwards. She knew she could live with it – there’d be moments of regret, perhaps, but most of the time she’d know that what she’d done was right. Then she heard a shout, and raised her head.

  Joe was pulling himself on to the harbour wall, turning to haul Nate up behind him. The Mariner boy slipped and Joe laughed, clear and bright like rain in the night-time. After all this, she thought, after everything he’s been through, he can still laugh. What would he say when he found out what she’d done? He’d understand, or he’d say he did. But would he ever really forgive her? Would he look at her the same way, knowing she’d left a man to die?

  Joe heaved, dragging Nate to safety. And, gritting her teeth, Kara climbed back down.

  28

  Afterwards

  Dawn found them on the steps outside the Zoo, huddled in the shelter of the Wall as sunlight touched the tops of the towers one by one. The Kraken lay smoking, its painted mouth grinning up at them. Joe clasped Growly in both hands – the bear’s head had got pretty badly singed, leaving a sort of black stump with eyes. But somehow he still gave Joe courage.

  It had been a long, strange night. Joe had slept on his feet or in the arms of whoever was carrying him as they were shuttled from the harbour to the makeshift field hospital down by Deepcut Dock, then cleared out to make room for an endless stream of wounded. Sometime in the small hours they’d been led up to the Zoo, finding space among the sleeping children.

  And now it was a new day. Down in the Pavilion he could see people lifting the dead and arranging them on wooden pallets, Mariner and City and Shanty alike. He knew that before long they’d have to go down and help. Could he carry a body? He wasn’t sure. But someone had to.

  “My people did all this,” Nate said bitterly. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Cortez did it,” Kara said. “Not you.”