by Gregory Mone
She was circling her room when Rian whistled at the door, then leaned inside. “Look, I’m sorry and all, but . . .”
“But what?” she asked.
“Your friends need you,” he said, his tone urgent. “Hanna, Lewis, and the professor you were telling us about. I know this is a lot to handle. That stuff about your dad, your mom . . . I can’t even imagine. But those Sun People—they need you, Kaya. This Naxos guy”—lowering his voice, he pointed his thumb toward the living room—”he clearly can’t do this alone. He’ll probably end up in another garbage chute. He needs your help, too. So pick yourself up, snap your heart back together or whatever, and get out of here.”
She was about to argue, more due to reflex than reason. He was right, though. Convincing, too. She smiled crookedly.
“What?” he asked.
“That was pretty good,” Kaya replied.
“What was?”
“Your speech. Did you practice?”
He shrugged. “Totally. I always knew you’d have to overcome personal heartache to rescue a bunch of accidental invaders from the clutches of a secretive police force. I’ve been planning that for years.”
She paused. “Right, but how do you snap a heart—”
“Oh, quiet down and pack your gear. Leave your gravity suit, though.”
“Really?”
“I’m going to need to borrow it.”
“Rian, this isn’t the—”
He cut her off. “I’m serious this time, Kaya. There are two Erasers outside, remember? Someone needs to draw them away so you and Naxos can sneak out in the cruiser. They’re watching the garage. They’re watching you. So I figure I’ll strap on your gravity gear and use your balcony trick.”
She stopped herself from replying. Thought for a moment. His plan might actually work. “Are you sure this isn’t just some elaborate scheme to finally borrow my favorite possession?”
“That’s exactly right,” he said. “I’m risking my life to test-drive your toys.”
He was joking, of course. But he really was about to risk his life. Or his safety, anyway. He was planning to trick a pair of Erasers. And he was doing it for her.
They turned quiet. She didn’t know what to say.
Thankfully, Naxos hurried into the room. “Approved?” he asked Rian.
“Approved,” Rian replied.
After an awkward half hug, half handshake with Rian, she grabbed a change of clothes, packed some more food, and stuffed it all into her backpack with some of Hanna’s scraps. Rian emerged from her room buckled into her gravity gear . . . and wearing one of her jumpsuits, too.
“What are you—”
“Your grandmother’s idea,” he snapped. “Get over it. I’m not happy about it, either. But we need them to think it’s you.” He wrapped a scarf around his head as a finishing touch, to hide his shorter hair. Then he rolled his shoulders and jumped up and down a few times. “Surprisingly comfortable,” he added with a shrug. “They should make these jumpsuits for boys, too. Naxos, are they still in position?”
Pressed against the wall, Kaya peered over Naxos’s shoulder. The two Erasers remained in place. “Still in position,” Naxos responded. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Straight home, Rian. Understood?” her grandmother asked. “Straight to your parents, please.”
“Well, I might tour the city a little first, or—”
“Straight home.”
“Straight home,” he repeated. “And Kaya?”
“Yes?”
“Good luck. Tell me all about it when you get back.”
Her friend hurried into her room before she could reply. He wasted no time. The two Erasers stood against the wall across the street, to the right. Inside, Kaya, her grandmother, and Naxos watched as Rian leaped off the balcony and, with his back to the Erasers, soared straight past their window toward the city center. The Erasers panicked. They rushed for their cruiser and hurried inside, already too far behind.
Kaya’s grandmother watched Rian drift into the distance. “That’s not the way to his house, is it, dear?”
“No, definitely not,” Kaya laughed.
The three of them hurried up the stairs to the garage. Her grandmother was slightly out of breath by the time they reached Gogol’s dented cruiser. She shook her head at the sorry sight. “We’ll have to do better than that,” she said. She whistled, and a shining luxury transport drifted out of its parking spot.
“That’s your new cruiser,” Kaya noted. “Grandmother, I—”
“Take it,” she said. “You have a long journey.”
After Kaya climbed inside, her grandmother leaned over the door and stared deep into her eyes. She took Kaya’s hands in hers. “My curious, impatient, adventurous girl. So much like your mother in so many ways. I knew these walls wouldn’t confine you for long. Now go!”
16
The Prison Beneath the Sea
Lewis definitely didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in jail. Still, if he had to pick a cell, this one wasn’t all bad. The view was interesting—all the water everywhere. On the third level, each of them had their own bed, and the mattresses were surprisingly comfortable. The bathroom, thankfully, was made of darkened glass, so he had a little privacy. The floors were dark, too, so you couldn’t see through from one level to the next. Ladders connected each level of the cell, and there were hatches you could close over them for privacy. Well, and safety, too. Lewis nearly fell through one of the openings when he was first touring the place.
The center of the cell had the largest room, a living area with a table and chairs, a few couches, and a kitchen of some sort. He asked if they could order takeout, but no one thought that was funny. There was some exercise equipment, too, but the weights were meant for Atlanteans. Even his dad could barely budge them.
The lowest level had giant tanks for fish and kelp, plus smaller ones growing different sea greens, and a whole bunch of machines and pumps for keeping the air clean and the water filtered. Lewis found some kind of washing machine, too, which was good, because his clothes were starting to smell like compost. Whole colonies of tiny creatures were probably growing in his armpits. Then again, if he waited long enough, maybe these little beasts would evolve and grow, and he’d have an armpit army under his command.
Eventually, if he trained himself to lift those heavy weights, maybe he could even lead these tiny warriors into battle against their jailers.
Now that was an escape plan.
Negatives? Sure, there were plenty. No soccer ball. No gaming setup. Some weird bathtub thing instead of a shower. No real food—fish and seaweed were going to get old fast. Oh, and then there was the fact that they were imprisoned in an inescapable underwater jail.
Yep. That was the real bug in the code.
He was trying to stay positive. Optimistic. Hopeful. But he felt like he’d been lowered into a thousand-foot-deep hole in the ground.
They had to escape.
Or call for help.
Or something.
Overall, his dad had been pretty weird since they’d reunited. Sure, he’d been happy at first. But then he’d changed. He’d become quiet. Not cold, exactly, and not the way he used to get when Lewis was looking for attention—a hug or even just a smile—and his dad’s mind was clearly elsewhere, drifting in search of Atlantis. No, this was a different kind of distance. Sometimes he caught his dad smiling at him sadly. At other times, his father unexpectedly wrapped him in quick but very real hugs.
They’d been in the cell for half a day, maybe more, when Lewis went looking for him. He was hoping they could discuss an escape plan. His only knowledge of jailbreaks came from movies. Mostly, people dug tunnels. That wouldn’t really work here.
His dad was on the third floor, sitting on the ground between the beds with his legs crossed, staring out into the water.
“What are you doing?” Lewis asked.
His father held up his hand. Was he meditating? His lips were moving sligh
tly. Lewis waited. His father whispered a number into his wristpad. “Give me a few more minutes, son.”
Research. He was doing more research.
All for the ridiculous Atlantis journals.
Lewis nearly exploded with frustration. Couldn’t his dad just pause his curiosity for a few hours? Even a few minutes? They needed his help! They had to find a way out of this cell, not waste their time gathering data for some book his dad would never have a chance to publish. Lewis had risked his life to be with his dad. They’d found Atlantis. Together! But nothing had changed. They were trapped in the same jail cell, and he still felt like his dad lived on the moon.
Nothing was more important to his father than Atlantis.
Not even his son.
Lewis hurried down the ladder to the second floor.
He sat for a minute, letting his eyes dry, but he didn’t want to be alone.
Hanna was on the lowest level, watching the two floor-to-ceiling tanks—one filled with kelp, the other with swimmers. Hundreds of fish swirled inside, kicking in a circle as if they were trapped inside a slow-motion blender. The miserable lives of those fish made Lewis feel slightly better about his situation. At least no one was going to eat him. Right?
“Hey, check this out,” Hanna said, waving him over to the clear wall. She was crouching and pointing to something in the water outside of the cell.
Lewis pressed the side of his face against the cool glass. “What am I looking for?”
“Okay, so I’ve scoured this cell, right? Every square centimeter. Every hinge and bolt. None of the controls are on the inside. But the professor and I were talking . . . by the way, what is your dad doing?”
Lewis shrugged. “Meditating? Or counting. I don’t know.”
His dad lowered his huge head through the hatch. “Counting,” he said. “Based on our estimated speed, and how long it takes this cell to complete one loop, this pool must be the size of a small city. There are probably hundreds of cells in here.” His words trailed off into a mumble; the excitement faded from his voice. He started climbing down to join them.
“How do you still have that?” Lewis asked, pointing to the wristpad. “Didn’t they search you? Demos was—”
His father shushed him, then pointed to the ceiling.
Right. They’d be listening. His father mimed taking off the wristpad and slipping it into his shoe. Then he removed the other shoe and winced. “When they frisked me, I took off the first shoe,” he whispered, “and they kindly asked me not to remove the second. So, tell me—what were you two talking about before I interrupted?”
Hanna pushed up close to the glass again, pointing. “See that ring around the outside?” She showed Lewis, then hurried across the room and showed his father the same thing. “It’s some kind of gigantic magnet circling the whole cell. But I can’t figure out how they activate it.”
“Sound,” his dad answered.
Hanna jumped back. “Of course!”
“I don’t understand,” Lewis said.
“When they want to bring a cell back to the control room,” Hanna explained, “they must play a particular sound.”
“Each cell has its own combination of tones,” his father added.
“When the cell picks up those sounds, this magnetic ring activates . . .”
She was guessing, Lewis realized, and waiting for his dad to finish the thought.
“As the cell in question circles our aquatic prison,” his father explained, “it is pulled toward the control room.”
Hanna held one hand upright, flat and still, then slowly brought the other one, balled into a fist, closer and closer, until it smacked into her palm. “The magnets connect, the cell is locked into place, and the doors open.”
“Exactly.”
Hanna was bouncing on her toes. “So if you could play the right tones . . .”
His dad’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t share her excitement.
“What’s the problem?” Lewis asked.
His dad knocked on the glass. Hanna’s shoulders fell. “The walls are soundproof,” she said. “So even if you could play the right tones, you’d have to get into the water to do it.”
“And the water’s cold enough to kill you,” Lewis added.
“Poisoned with toxins, too.”
The three of them were silent. The walls seemed to grow thicker, the light dimmer.
Then his dad clapped his hands together. “Don’t worry. They’ll come to their senses! They’ll realize this is all a big mistake. They’ll release us. Before long, they’ll release us.”
“What if they don’t?” Lewis asked.
“They will. Not to worry.”
“Okay, sure,” Hanna said, “but what if—”
“Let’s not think that way, Hanna.”
“So you just expect us to sit here and hope?” Lewis asked.
His father smiled weakly and dropped one of his huge hands onto Lewis’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t discount hope. It is a powerful force.”
His dad ended the conversation and climbed back to his perch on the third floor.
Hope? That was his solution?
For a while, Lewis stared out into the water. Other cells drifted past in the distance, above and below them. How long had those other prisoners been there? Years? Decades? He wondered if he would get old in the cell. Maybe he’d grow a really long white beard. No—he’d probably lose his hair. His teeth would fall out, too, because he’d miss all his trips to the dentist. He’d probably grow a wart or two. Maybe his back would end up all twisted and hunched, and his fingernails would get long and yellow. And he wouldn’t just be ugly. He’d be broken. He’d never see his mom again. He’d never hear her whisper good night to him in bed. And his brother . . . his little brother would grow up without him. Alone. With better teeth and no warts. And no one to teach him things like the chicken dance.
Something clattered to the floor behind him.
Hanna had opened a panel below the fish tank. He watched her study the tangle of tubes and pipes. “What are you doing now?” he asked. “I wouldn’t mess with that too much. It’s kind of our food.”
“I was trying to see if there’s anything in here that could send a signal. So much of the technology in Atlantis is based on sound. It’s like their tech took a completely different direction from ours. We went visual. Screens and light. But their audio stuff is just ridiculous. When we were back in the cruiser with Kaya, I was thinking that if I could put together a radio, then use one of those sonic weapon things as an amplifier, we could signal for help.”
This was a good idea. A fantastic one.
Genius, really.
And yet she didn’t look all that excited. “So what’s wrong?”
“I don’t have the radio equipment. It’s all in the bag back at Kaya’s house.”
“No deadly trumpet, either,” Lewis added.
“Yeah, and we’re in a soundproof jail cell, anyway.”
Okay, so maybe her plan wasn’t pure genius.
Seated on the floor, she leaned back against the base of the tank and exhaled. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Jail? Yeah, I didn’t—”
“No, Atlantis! This wasn’t supposed to be real.”
Her eyes were bloodshot and teary. Lewis didn’t know what to say. So he sat beside her on the floor. She inched closer, and the two of them watched the water and the distant passing cells. She held his hand. Not in a weird way, though. Now she seemed more like the sister he’d never had. A frustratingly smart, occasionally annoying one, but a sister nonetheless.
At some point, Hanna moved upstairs, and Lewis found himself yawning. His father was still on the third floor, trapped in his trance. Or thinking about the next chapter in his Atlantis journals. Lewis was still too annoyed to talk to him, and since lying down in an actual bed felt like giving up, admitting that this was their new home, he dropped onto the other couch, across from a snoring Hanna. A massive yawn shook his whole
tired body, and he was asleep within seconds.
In his dream, he was back home, outside his house. His brother was there. Roberts, too. And his mother. They were all looking for him, calling his name. He could see them and touch them, but they couldn’t see or feel him. To them, he was invisible. There were goats in the dream, too, and they were wearing tuxedos, serving tiny hot dogs as appetizers.
Next he was at the edge of some dreamworld version of the cliff near his home, and the ocean wasn’t miles away, as it was in reality. The sea was roiling right below him. A dark sea churning angrily with wild, whitecapped waves.
He awoke shivering.
The room was dark.
On the other couch, Hanna was on her side, drooling.
A feeling of dread spread through Lewis. The dreamworld hadn’t faded yet. He thought of the goats in their tuxedos. At least they had been funny.
He stood and walked to the ladder. The glass hatch between the second and third floors had been removed from its hinges. A light on the third floor was still shining. He climbed up, but his father wasn’t there. The dread from his dream wasn’t all gone; it clung to his chest. Where was his dad?
He hurried back down. Hanna was snoring—a light, fluttering snore. His father wasn’t on the second floor, either.
Lewis rushed down to the lowest level of the cell.
Still no sign.
“Hanna,” he called out. “My dad. Where is he?”
She mumbled as he rushed back up. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her lightly. She sat upright. “Your dad? What do you mean?”
“He’s gone.”
“He can’t be gone,” Hanna said.
Then her eyes bulged. She raced for the entrance. Lewis followed. They’d first stepped into the cell this way; the entrance had connected to the Erasers’ control room. But Lewis had paid little attention to it since then. There was an inner door, a small, enclosed entryway, almost like a mudroom in a normal house, and then another door in the outer wall of the giant cell. His dad was inside the entryway. Pumps churned below them, and water was filling the space. His father stood with his back to them, staring out into the huge pool.
