He’d shot up into the air so fast he hadn’t had a chance to even see which way his sister went. When he’d looked down, the spot they had just been standing in was empty.
Now all he wanted to do was get off this wall and zip to the hospital where his mom would be waiting with open arms. But nothing was ever that easy in Flood City. To distract himself, he opened the door in his mind that let the music in. It was as simple as flicking a switch: Suddenly the ricocheting clacks and thumps of the drums and the swirling horns came flooding into his brain. His aching muscles became a distant tingle, barely noticeable compared to the thundering rhythms.
BLOOM BA DUM! Djinna’s balooga drum rumbled. That was the biggest one in the set, almost twice as tall as Max. Then the timbaleos would rattle along over the dying vibrations from the balooga. Ortega, Jesus, and Mateo played those with expert precision when they weren’t chatting it up outside Old Man Cortinas’s barbershop. The cymbals would shimmer in next, dazzling and slick. Jasmine was the cymbalist; she somehow always managed to have a completely calm and cool expression on her face, even while the rest of the group was sweating through some extra-complex section.
Max could hear it all as perfectly clear as if it were happening right in front of him. He could foresee what would come next in the music, where the song wanted to go, who would have a difficult part coming up, who would have to play louder or softer and when. The horn section was about to start, but something was distracting him, something wasn’t right. He opened his eyes (he hadn’t even realized that he’d shut them) and almost slipped off the wall from shock.
The humongous, light blue faces of two Star Guard patrollers were staring at him from a few feet away. The giants were a species called the snell and came from a planet light-years from Earth that no one could pronounce the name of. They’d been the ones, under the fierce leadership of Star Guard commander Bartrum Uk, who’d helped fight off the Chemical Barons all those years ago, and they’d stuck around ever since. The Star Guard giants were known to be pretty foul tempered though, often locking up Flood City folks for no reason at all or cutting off food rations just to prove a point.
“What you doing up on this building wall, boy?” the taller giant said.
“You know it’s against regulations to linger on a wall side like that. Particularly the Tumbled Together Towers.”
“I was putting up a banner,” Max said.
The taller Star Guard raised a blue eyebrow. “What kind of banner, son?”
“A banner about how great the mighty Star Guard is, of course.”
“Really?” the shorter one said, looking genuinely surprised. “On Flood City Day? Aren’t you celebrating the anniversary with the rest of them?”
“Why live in the past, I always say!” Max managed to blurt without choking on the lie. “You guys give us our provisions and keep us safe from the Chemical Barons. I just think a little appreciation is in order, don’t you?”
The giants looked slightly taken aback. Max was pretty sure they were about to let him go when there was a fizzling sound and suddenly Commander Bartrum Uk himself appeared between the two Star Guards. He was a tiny fellow who looked even smaller next to the giants he commanded. No one knew if he had legs, because he was always stuffed into a mini-hovercraft from which his torso and large head protruded like an angry mushroom. His skin was a sickly blue green, and he wore a very uncomfortable-looking red-and-gold uniform that seemed to hold his slimy body in place.
“What is this about?” the regional commander of the Star Guard demanded. He buzzed up close to Max and stuck out his saliva-covered bottom lip in disapproval. “What’s going on? Why are you breaking legislation and lingering near the Tumbled Together Towers, eh?”
One of the giants raised his huge arm. “He was putting up a banner, sir, in favor of the Star Guard.”
Max cringed inside. His excuse sounded even more implausible coming from the big blue guy’s mouth. Commander Bartrum Uk squinted at Max. “Where’s your banner, son?”
“The one I was gonna put up?”
“Yes, the one you were going to put up.” Little flecks of Uk saliva splattered across Max’s face.
“It blew away.”
“Really?”
“It did. On a gust of wind.”
“I see.”
The commander seemed to be burning holes into Max’s face with those squinty little eyes. Then he turned to the giants. “This one seems ripe for the Star Guard, don’t you think, Captain Gorus?”
Max restrained a shudder of fear. Joining the Star Guard was almost as bad as being thrown in the brig. No one knew what exactly happened to young people who were recruited, but there were horrible rumors. Basically, it meant shipping off to get blown up by the Chemical Barons on a faraway asteroid or being the equivalent of the blue giants on some other poor planet that couldn’t protect itself.
“I dunno, Commander,” the captain muttered. “Maybe.”
Bartrum Uk stared down Max for another couple of seconds. Max felt like the strange little creature was memorizing his face somehow, putting it in a mental file cabinet for the next time they met. One thing was sure—he wasn’t buying the goofy banner story.
“Alright, carry on,” Bartrum Uk said finally. “Find your … banner. Or whatever. We have more urgent business to attend to than vagrant children. That is all. Long live the Star Guard.”
“Long live the Star Guard,” Max said, trying not to sound grudging about it. He powered up his jetboots and rocketed off. What secrets were those blue giants keeping? And where had Yala disappeared to? And who or what had she seen following them?
He sped past the docks and out over the crashing waves toward their mom’s hospital.
Yala dashed across an alleyway and threw herself against a brick wall. She had tried to catch a glimpse as she flashed past, thought she might’ve seen something move but wasn’t sure. She could tell she wasn’t as on point as usual. The weight of being about to leave and, even worse, having to tell her family about her decision was taking up so much room in her mind she couldn’t think straight.
Something was definitely moving in the alley. Worse, it was coming toward her. Whatever it was, it was extremely deft at being stealthy. If there was one thing Yala felt completely confident about, it was her ability to outmaneuver any follower. Growing up in the messy, danger-ridden Flood City streets had given her a sharp ear. She could hear the wing flap of an attacking iguanagull long before it ever swooped out of the sky. She could distinguish between various models of jetboots as they approached. Outsmarting the oversize, clumsy Star Guard was never a problem. Best of all, she knew the city inside out, so when something did come at her, she always had a tunnel or hideaway to disappear into.
But this was completely different. She’d barely caught onto her follower earlier, only happened to catch a fleeting glimpse of it as she tossed the tire at the electric ghost. It was a shadowy figure peeking around a corner, barely visible at all, and then it was gone. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Max until they were close enough to the hospital that she figured he’d be able to make it alone if they split up.
Yala couldn’t even tell how she knew it was there. The thing wasn’t making any noise; it was more like a feeling she had. Like the molecules of air that it swept aside were sending tiny wind gust warnings to her. She shivered.
The half-sunken rust-covered ocean liner loomed overhead. The boat was one of the first pieces of floating sea debris to form what would one day become Flood City. It was huge and cast a constant shadow over the windy labyrinth of alleyways in the weird shadowy neighborhood known as Barge Annex. Yala often headed there to get away from patrolling Star Guards or pesky scavengers, even though it was strictly forbidden by her elders. The seemingly endless maze of alleys and tunnels was a perfect way to disappear.
Her follower was only a few feet away now, and moving fast. She eased off the ignition pedals on her jetboots, letting herself slide slowly toward the ground. The uneven bri
ck wall scraped against her back. She thought about Max, imagined him making it safely to the hospital, hugging their mom. Then she started to worry about how he would get on without her around. Put it out of your head, Yala. This isn’t the time for that. You gotta worry about keeping your own self alive right now. She slipped onto the uneven crevice where two buildings had settled into each other: a mess of shattered brick and mortar that didn’t make for easy movement. Up ahead, it narrowed into a jagged crawl space that probably led to some scavenger den or creature’s nest, but it would do for a temporary hiding place. Yala wanted to see just what exactly was trailing her. If she had to retreat deeper in, so be it, but hopefully her pursuer would go past without noticing her. Hopefully.
She waited, her eyes glued to the alleyway. She knew there wouldn’t be footsteps, but surely the thing would make some noise as it approached. Again her mind wandered back to Max. He was so impossible sometimes, so easily distracted. She could only hope … It wasn’t a noise, but the sudden intense whiff of some kind of cologne snapped Yala back to alertness. She glanced over and had to force herself not to gasp. It was a vapor.
There had been one along with the original crew of Flood City Founders, but since then nobody one had ever seen one except for a few old-timers. Of course, there were stories—eerie tales of a whole secret race of mist people, sneaking back and forth through the alleyways of Barge Annex in the service of whatever strange engine urged them all forward. Babies disappearing, a sudden surge of iguanagulls, or the dearth of edible fish—Flood City folk could chalk up any number of natural disasters and petty calamities to the vapors’ meddling ways. But Yala never really thought she’d see one.
The vapor could’ve just been a large puff of smoke, but then it stopped, right in front of where Yala was hiding. Two long, cloudy arms unfolded from either side and then a wide smile crescented across its front.
“Hey, Yala,” the vapor said, chuckling and opening its disturbingly human eyes.
In the dim officer’s cabin on the cloud cruiser, Mephim sat with his fingers interlaced. How was it that everything could go exactly as planned and still be an utter disaster? He rummaged through the events of the last few days, from the debacle at Corinth to the iguanagull swarm. The crew was repairing the damaged areas on the ship and they would probably still be able to complete their mission, but something nagged at the edge of Mephim’s mind. There was trouble brewing somewhere, right underneath his nose, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.
He let his hands drop to his lap and touched something solid folded within his cloak. Of course—the iguanagull. Mephim pulled out the scaly, blood-crusted head and held it with one hand in front of his face. The jaw was frozen open in an expression of terror. The sightless eyes gazed off to either side from beneath folds of green flesh. A few tattered feathers adorned the base of the neck. Mephim smiled. It was an unusual stroke of luck in an otherwise grim scenario—an uninvited guest and a gift. It would be perfect for a test run, the ArchBaron thought. He closed his eyes. Perhaps Oso’s big mouth was a blessing in disguise.
A quiet beeping interrupted Mephim’s reverie, and he quickly stashed the head back in his robes. “Enter,” he said, and the cabin door slid open with an electric whir. It was the boy, Ato.
“Good day, ArchBaron.” Ato bowed slightly.
“Good day, young Baron. What do you want?”
“I was wondering, sir, since the ship’s almost repaired, and we have some free time, if I might have a look at the iguanagull head you … procured earlier.”
Mephim struggled to suppress the violent stirring inside of him. “Why do you want it?”
“Just to study, sir. I’ve always wanted to get a look at one up close. And it seemed like a rare opportunity.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds. Mephim had the unpleasant feeling that everything he thought was plain as day to this young boy. “It’s gone,” he said. “I threw it out the waste hatch as soon as I returned to my quarters. Think no more of it; it’s a hideous, useless beast.”
Mephim could see in the boy’s eyes that he wasn’t buying a word of it.
“That’s too bad,” Ato said, without losing eye contact. “I would’ve liked to … Oh well.” He took some steps back and then turned and walked out of the room.
Ato had known it’d be a long shot getting the head to study. He’d expected disappointment. What he hadn’t counted on was all that weirdness from Mephim. It had felt like the air was thick with the ArchBaron’s discomfort, like he could taste it. Ato felt, more than saw or heard, that Mephim had been lying to him about throwing the thing away. He was certain of it.
The ArchBaron had always kept such an enigmatic air about him, never allowing anyone to see his emotions or fears. He was just Mephim: steady, ferocious, and direct—a warrior at heart. But today, he’d lost his cool, killed an animal with his bare hands, and blatantly lied. It was true: Ato wasn’t the only one who experienced a certain uneasiness when the ArchBaron came around. But everyone assumed that was simply the discomfort of being near such a competent, focused commander, a man who had seen his share of murder and mayhem. It just went with the territory. But Ato was beginning to think there was something else going on besides all that, something much more sinister.
He strolled onto the bridge, where Oso was overseeing the last few repairs to the internal wiring. “Almost good?” Ato asked.
“Hardly,” grunted Oso. “Those monsters worked us over pretty bad. That one that got in chewed through half our gunnery wiring on the left upper channel. The guys on the outside tore some sizable holes into our metal outershields. One of the cannons is gone.”
“Dang,” Ato sighed.
“Dang indeed.” The lieutenant leaned over to glare at one of the gun station monitors. He pushed a button on his headset. “To the left, Sala! The left!” He looked back at Ato. “And what’s worse? Mephim is still gonna want us on this maneuver tonight.”
“Really?”
“Of course! Like we don’t have enough problems. The ship’s a mess. The Star Guard might know we’re here by now, which would mean they’ll be ready for us. God knows what’all armaments the Flood City folks have up their sleeve. Plus it’s their anniversary celebration, so that’s never a good look. I just don’t like the whole thing.”
No one had ever spoken so honestly about a mission to Ato before. And it was all true, of course.
“Why are we surveilling them, anyway?”
Oso shrugged. “Orders. You know the higher-ups all want to get back to Earth more than anything, and they see Flood City as the only way to do it. And supposedly these guys on the ground have some plan to team up, the Star Guard and the Flood City folks, and strike at the Baron base fleet. So we’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I thought the Flood City people couldn’t stand the Star Guard.”
Oso sighed. “Well, depends who you ask. At this point, if Mephim says we move, we move, because we’re soldiers. Understand?”
Ato nodded, but he thought Oso sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else.
“Did he give you the birdlizard head to study?”
Ato was taken aback. He hadn’t mentioned that to anyone, not even Get. “Huh?”
“I saw you looking at that thing when it dropped. And I remember back on Corinth, when you couldn’t take your eyes offa them star spiders. Gotta thing ’bout animals, I see. Nothing wrong with that. We need to understand the things better anyway, if we gonna live near ’em. Can’t just go blowing ’em outta the sky every time they get near us.”
“Yes,” Ato said, flabbergasted that Oso had just perfectly summarized everything he’d been thinking for the past two weeks. “Totally.”
“Anyway,” Oso said, gazing at the monitor again, “did you get it?”
“No. He said he tossed it out the waste hatch.”
“That’s weird,” Oso said. “Then why’d he bother keeping it in the first plac
e?”
“That’s what I was trying to figure out.”
“The left, Sala, even more to the left!” Oso yelled suddenly. “It’ll be a miracle if this piece of junk makes it to tonight, let alone past that. Say, maybe they didn’t toss the body yet. Did you try and track it down?”
Ato perked up. He hadn’t thought of that. “Great idea!” he yelled, and ran off down the hall.
When the Floods first crashed across Earth and the Chemical Barons escaped into space, a tiny group of survivors holed up in a star cruiser. They were mostly children; the cruiser had been about to set off on an intergalactic field trip with almost an entire school on board. Instead of trying to breach the Barons’ blockade, the faculty and crew decided to remain just above the surface of the waters, scouring the planet for land.
They didn’t find any, of course. For miles and miles, all that was left was the crashed-together mess of buildings that had risen up around what was now the Music Hall. The Founders, mostly kids at the time—like Max and Yala’s parents and Dr. Maceo—along with Old Man Cortinas, set up camp and eventually converted their original star cruiser into Saint Solomon’s Hospital.
It hung above the churning water a little ways off the shore. Max zipped over the waves in record time and into the emergency hold. This had been the main hull of the starship, and during those months when they’d been lost at sea, the Founders had used it to hold council meetings. Now the hull was full of stretchers, beeping machines, fluid tanks, and moaning sick people. Nurses and doctors worked their way between beds tending to various illnesses and injuries, making notes on charts and adjusting infusions.
Surely Yala had gotten here already. She was the faster one by far and presumably hadn’t been held up by the glowering Star Guard or whatever it was that’d been following them. Max didn’t see her among the bustling emergency hold, but he did spot his mom turning into one of the side corridors.
“Mom!” Max called, taking off after her.
Flood City Page 3