Grimsdon (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The ship listed from side to side, rolling with every wave that hammered into it, each one threat ening to pull them under.

‘Dad!' Isabella held onto the railing, which creaked and groaned as if it would splinter any minute.

Isabella's dad turned the steering wheel, trying to sail through the storm that had sprung up.

Another wave spilled over the deck, pulling Isabella's legs from beneath her so that all she had between her and the ocean was the dwindling strength in her arms gripping the mast.

When the sea water drained away, she opened her eyes and saw her father had gone.

‘Dad!' She scanned the ship, the upper deck, the bow and stern before looking over the edge, where her dad clung to the railing beneath her. Her body cramped with fear.

She crouched low and stuck out her hand. ‘Hold on to me!'

Waves battered against him, making it hard for him to breathe. Isabella reached further. ‘Take my hand.'

For a moment, in between waves, there was nothing between them. Her dad smiled. It washed over Isabella like a blanket.

Then another wave erupted, smothering him.

When it had passed, he was gone.

‘Dad!' She frantically searched the ocean. ‘Dad! Come back!

Isabella woke, her hand covering her mouth to stop the scream threatening to leave her lips. Her blankets lay scattered on the floor. She looked out the window. There was no storm. No tearing waves. Just the moon spilling a milky quiet over everything. She dropped her hand and drew in gulps of air, feeling as if someone had wrung her throat.

She grabbed the wind-up torch from her bedside table and crept down the long, silent corridor. At a set of double doors, she slowly turned the handle and tiptoed inside. A sleeping figure was curled underneath the covers of a large four-poster bed. Isabella's feet trod carefully until she stood at the bedhead and switched on her torch.

‘Hey.' Xavier squinted against the light. ‘What's going on?'

‘I want to go inland,' Isabella said.

Xavier blinked. ‘Now?'

‘Tomorrow.'

Xavier sat up and pushed his rumpled hair out of his eyes. ‘I only go inland alone.'

‘Well, next time you'll have company.'

He shook his head. ‘It's too dangerous for–'

‘A girl?'

‘Too dangerous for anyone. If the guards see us–'

‘They won't. We'll be careful.'

‘I don't know if–'

‘Griffin and I tried to reach inland once, but we got caught in a storm. The dinghy filled with water faster than we could empty it. Griffin was washed out and nearly drowned. We only just made it back.' She paused. ‘Maybe the flood didn't reach my home in Harrowgate. Maybe my dad made it after all.'

‘And if he didn't?'

‘I need to know.' Isabella's stare was unwavering.

Xavier sighed. ‘Tomorrow then.'

Isabella turned to leave.

‘Do you have nightmares every night?'

‘How did you know?'

‘Why else would you come here in the middle of the night? Are they about the floods?'

Isabella sat on the bed. The torch cast a soft light on her face. ‘It varies, but most nights my dad is in trouble, in the water,' she whispered, ‘and I can't save him.'

‘But that'd never be true – I've seen you in action. If I was in trouble, I'd want you to rescue me.' Xavier smiled. ‘Do you want to know why I really came here?'

‘To play hero and show off your fancy flying machine.'

‘Yes, there was that, but mostly it was because of you.'

‘Me?'

‘You know how I told you I was following you and the kids?'

Isabella nodded.

‘I wasn't following
all
of you.' He paused. ‘I was following
you.'

Isabella frowned. ‘Why?'

‘The way you led those kids, you were brave and gutsy and full of confidence. Even when there were times you were scared, you never let them see it.'

‘I want them to feel safe ... or as safe as they can.'

‘That's just it. The way you look out for each other is something I've never known. I saw you and realised I didn't want to be alone anymore.'

‘What if we'd decided not to let you stay?'

‘Oh, there wasn't any chance of that.' Xavier shook his head. ‘Not when you found out how irresistible I was.'

Isabella laughed. ‘But you don't need anyone, remember?
No-one tells me what to do or when to go to bed.'

‘I was lying.' He gave a weak laugh. ‘At first I loved it. The freedom, the independence. I had the Velocraft and Aerotrope to scavenge. I didn't think I'd want anything else. But then I saw you.'

‘Why didn't you live with Raven at the Haggle?'

‘Raven?' Xavier scoffed. ‘Don't get me wrong, I like him, but he can be a bit mad. And those kids with all that noise? No thanks.' He paused. ‘Are you sure you want to go inland?'

‘It's time I found out.'

‘Okay. Inland it is.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Aerotrope lifted over Grimsdon's building tops. The light from the faded sun sent a dull orange haze over church steeples, castle turrets and glinted off meandering streets of water.

‘You okay back there?' Xavier called over his shoulder.

‘I'm fine.'

Isabella had been quiet all through the preparation. Griffin asked her if she was sure this was the right thing to do. He said he would stand by anything she wanted. Always would. He offered to go, but Isabella asked him to stay with the kids. She told him again how brave she thought he was to send Sneddon's men away. Xavier slapped him on the back and said that would be the end of it – they were too cowardly to come back.

Griffin stayed close to Isabella until the moment he said goodbye and watched her disappear into a grey cloud.

The inland sea stretched far before them. It flowed further than Isabella had imagined. Rows of apartment buildings, the roofs of schools and hospitals – all peeked out from the brown and muddied world.

As they flew further inland the water began to recede, exposing more and more of the streets. Cars and park benches lay on their sides. Post boxes and street signs were bent over.

‘According to my map, Harrowgate is a little to the south of here.' Xavier watched the needle of his compass flicker as he turned the Aerotrope into a gentle curve.

Isabella's grip tightened. Her long, red coat fluttered around her ankles as she searched below for the first signs of her home.

Her mood lifted at the sight of dry land.

‘Maybe Harrowgate made it.'

‘Won't be long until we find out,' Xavier cried. ‘Is there a landmark we should look out for?'

‘There's a church in the main square. The tallest steeple has three gargoyles on top. Dad said they were to ward off evil spirits. We lived a few streets from there.'

‘Let's go find your gargoyles.'

The wings of the Aerotrope circulated in a smooth rhythm. Licks of clouds swept past as they sailed above the outskirts of Isabella's neighbourhood.

A small gasp escaped her lips. ‘This is it.'

Harrowgate lay in ruins. It was as if a volcano had erupted, shaking the town to its foundations before blanketing it in mud. Many houses had collapsed roofs and doors were torn from their hinges. Everything was out of place. Streets were filled with toys and furniture. Lounges and televisions littered the yards. Microwaves and washing machines lay open, sunk in pools of hardened mud.

‘There's your church.'

The spire jutted into the air, just as Isabella had said, its three gargoyles hanging from its tip. Xavier tilted the wings and rudder downwards, slowing the flying machine and guiding it in for a landing. It came to a smooth stop on the roof of the town hall. Isabella took off her goggles and life jacket and walked to the edge of the building.

There was a ghostly quiet everywhere. Shops, homes, the post office were all deserted.

The wind played in her hair, the only reminder that this wasn't another of her nightmares.

Xavier kicked the brick chimney to see if it was secure before tying a rope around its base and throwing it over the side. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Harrowgate isn't flooded,' Isabella said. ‘Why hasn't the government cleaned it up and rebuilt the town?'

‘They probably don't want anyone living here in case it happens again.'

Across the square was a small, stately building, fronted by tall columns that rose up to a peaked roof. ‘That's the library. We lived two streets behind it.'

Isabella took the rope and inched her way down the side of the building, finding footholds on window ledges and the sculpted heads of important men from the past.

The mud crunched beneath their feet as they approached a small shop, its front window smashed. Inside, shelves had fallen against each other and the glass counter was cracked and silted over with grubby streaks.

‘Mrs. Gray's bakery,' Isabella said. ‘Everyone came here for her cherry pies and chocolate éclairs.'

‘I thought you weren't supposed to mention food you can't have,' Xavier said.

Isabella smiled. ‘Oh, but they were good.'

She stopped in front of the library. ‘In summer the council would line up rows of chairs and show films on a giant screen just here. It was so crowded, as if the whole town had came out. Griff and I would bring pillows and blankets and spread out on the ground.'

It was only a few minutes' walk along a short side alley before they were in Isabella's old street, lined with terrace houses with small front yards. Scooters and bicycles lay tangled together; more cars were overturned or jammed against telegraph poles. In the centre of the road was a bed, sitting upright as if waiting to be made and carried back inside.

As Isabella walked along the street her legs felt heavy, as if she was treading on quicksand.

The gardens were overgrown and creepers had swarmed over fences, collapsing some, climbing up walls and invading windows and gutters. She stopped at one gate and pushed aside a clump of leaves to reveal the metal outline of a sailboat.

‘This is Griffin's house.' The front door was long gone and the inside walls sagged with water rot. The roofs had partially caved in. She picked up a small toy car and put it in her pocket. ‘My house is three doors away.'

She counted the forty-two steps it took to get there. Something she'd done since she was little. The fence had been torn away, and beneath the strangling greenery in the yard she found the faded remains of a skateboard. ‘I rode this everywhere.'

‘Good with knives and a skateboarder, too?' Xavier said. ‘You are impressive.'

They drew their knives from their belts and hacked through the weeds and creepers. They had to ram their shoulders against the door a few times before it fell off its hinges.

Inside was a wreck. Furniture, books and lamps were thrown against each other in piles surrounded by muddied walls and floors.

Isabella carefully stepped past each room until she came to her bedroom. The frame of her bed was slammed against the wall with the blankets gathered around it in a soiled mess. Her books lay splayed and buckled, her schoolbag torn and emptied, but above the mess, hanging on the wall, was one possession the water hadn't touched: a photo of Isabella with her mum and dad. She lifted the frame from its rusted hook and removed the photo from beneath the glass.

‘They look nice,' Xavier said.

Isabella didn't answer. Tears ran down her cheek, soaking into the sleeves of her coat.

‘I'm sorry,' Xavier said softly.

‘I guess I knew it would be like this, but a little part of me hoped it would be okay.'

She tried to stop them coming but couldn't. Her body slid down the wall, shaking with sobs.

Xavier crouched beside her. Isabella softened and collapsed against his shoulder.

She'd been quiet for several minutes before Xavier asked, ‘Should we go home?'

Isabella shook her head. ‘Where are the best places to scavenge?'

‘But wouldn't you prefer–'

‘We've come all this way.' Isabella stood up and tightened the belt around her coat. ‘Let's take back some real food.'

Xavier smiled. ‘I know the perfect place.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Within minutes of reaching the Aerotrope, they were in the air, drifting over evacuated towns and suburbs, over empty streets and abandoned schools and playgrounds.

And in the distance, Isabella saw the fence: a squadron of unwelcoming towers joined by stretches of wire mesh topped with coils of razor wire.

‘How will we get in?'

‘I know a way.'

Xavier landed the machine in a clearing in a thick forest.

‘We need to walk the rest of the way.' He swapped his life jacket for a backpack.

They wheeled the Aerotrope further in among the trees and covered it with branches and leaves. Xavier checked his compass and they walked through the dense woodlands. Isabella ran her hand over rough bark and across leaves, ducked under vines and breathed in the damp, earthy smells kicked up by her boots. ‘I've missed this.'

‘We've become used to a strange kind of life.'

They climbed higher into the forest until it thinned and they emerged on a narrow country lane on top of a hill. Below was a small village and beyond that, trapped by a long, rambling fence, was an endless sea of identical tents.

‘What is it?' Isabella asked.

Xavier handed her a pair of binoculars. ‘One of the tent cities.'

Among the rows of tents, Isabella saw people washing clothes in buckets, dirt-smeared kids playing in muddy puddles and bony dogs sniffing through giant piles of rubbish. From one tent, a line of people holding bowls waited patiently. Scattered throughout were men in military uniform, rifles swinging from their shoulders.

‘Who are all those people?' Isabella asked.

‘They're from Grimsdon. There weren't enough houses for everyone who was rescued, so they live in tent cities. The guys with guns make sure they don't leave without permission.'

‘Why?'

‘In case they steal stuff or cause trouble.'

‘There must be thousands of tents.'

‘More, I'd say.'

The village near the tents was crisscrossed with narrow streets. The shops and church had bars across their windows, while the strains of children singing floated from inside the school.

‘It doesn't feel real.' Isabella frowned. ‘Like it's some kind of nightmare.'

‘Come on.'

Xavier looked around before sneaking through a gap in a hedge. Isabella followed and found herself in the backyard of a large house.

‘Somebody's home.' She pointed to an open window on the second floor.

‘If we're quiet, they'll never know.'

‘But...'

He hurried to a screen door that opened into a kitchen. He slipped off his pack and tiptoed into a walk-in pantry filled with food.

Isabella's eyes widened.

He grabbed jars of homemade peaches and plums and cans of food, and stuffed them in his pack. There were bags of dried milk powder and pasta, cans of condensed milk, packets of chocolate biscuits and boxes of soap.

When their bags were full, they snuck back into the kitchen. They heard something tinkle against the floor from deep inside the house and ducked behind the door. They peeked down the hall. In a drawing room at the end of the hall, they saw the arm of a rocking chair and a woman lean over to pick up a knitting needle. With a heavy sigh she went back to knitting. When Isabella looked closer, she saw the woman was working on a scarf that was gathering beside her on a pile of others as high as the chair.

‘What's she doing?'

‘Maybe she gets cold at night.' Xavier was impatient to leave. ‘Come on, let's–' Isabella had begun walking down the hall towards the woman.

She stopped when she had a better view of the room. Each chair, tabletop and window seat was overflowing with multicoloured scarves that tangled and dripped in great lengths. The woman had greying hair and thin, bony fingers and hummed as she rocked back and forth.

‘I saw scarves like those on the kids from the tents. She must sit here all day knitting for them.'

Xavier took her arm and slowly led her away, the knitting needles clicking behind them.

Isabella didn't speak until they'd climbed back through the hedge. ‘She looked so sad.'

‘There's nothing we can do about it.' Xavier charged ahead.

‘Maybe we shouldn't have stolen her things.'

He turned on her. ‘They have plenty!'

Isabella recoiled.

‘Sorry.' He softened. ‘It's just that people like that have more than enough to share. She won't even miss it.' He tried one of his winning smiles. ‘Come on, those kids'll go wild when they see what we've brought them this time.'