The Water Wars

by Cameron Stracher

  And what did it all have to do with Kai? If they were following him with empty tankers, he must be somewhere near water—maybe even the secret river. But that meant he was in the hands of the Minnesotans, which didn’t make much sense. Surely the Minnesotans didn’t need another driller; they got enough water from the Canadians and still had access to underground lakes. Crossing the border to kidnap two people was an international violation and an act of war. I couldn’t imagine why the Minnesotans would take that risk. Suddenly I was very scared.

  I found Will’s hand and gripped it tightly. He squeezed back, and for a while that was all I needed.

  By late afternoon the landscape had changed. Where there had been dust, dirt, and debris, there were now the faintest signs of civilization: a concrete bunker with smoke rising from a chimney; an electric car that wasn’t rusted or broken; roads that were nearly smooth; and the most telling sign of all—patches of green.

  “They’re growing,” said Will, his voice hushed and awestruck.

  Except for photos of Basin and the occasional hardy plant or backyard scrub, we rarely saw anything green that wasn’t painted on or in a hydro-vault. But here it looked as if people had water to spare. Green things sprouted up in no particular pattern, almost as if no one cared where they grew.

  “It’s grass,” Ulysses explained. “They feed it to the cattle.”

  “They have cattle?” Will asked in a whisper.

  “How do you think they get meat?”

  “But…” Will’s voice trailed off. Such riches were unimaginable. Flowing water, grass, and cattle—it was as if someone said that gold paved the streets and diamonds were in the hills.

  Then in the distance, I saw our destination. It loomed in front of us like a gigantic wall that stretched the length of an entire city. It was perfectly flat, yet seemingly endless, with nothing rising behind it, as if no one dared peer over the top. I had never seen such a thing, but I knew from the wireless that it was a giant dam holding back billions of liters of fresh water—water that might normally have flowed south to the border and maybe even to our home. Minnesota was the land of ten thousand dams, and its government often boasted that it had more dams per person than any other country in the world. I knew that the largest dam in the world was in the Arctic Straits, owned by Canada but claimed by the Arctic Archipelago. Someday, if the war ever ended, whoever controlled it would control ten percent of the world’s fresh water.

  Gray cliffs rose at either end of the dam—the same color as the concrete that had been used to build it. As Ulysses drove closer, I could see a small army of trucks and equipment parked around the dam’s base, painted in the familiar blue-green of the Minnesota flag.

  What were the pirates doing? Were they planning to steal water from the reservoir? Such a brazen act would get us all killed. The dam was heavily fortified, with gun batteries spaced regularly along its walls and the Minnesota Water Guard standing watch all across its length. There would be no escape, and stealing water was a capital crime.

  I must have been fidgeting on the seat, because Ulysses turned to me and said, “Don’t fret, little sister. We’re just here for talking. Even pirates know their limits.”

  “Is this where they’ve taken the boy?” I asked. “The one you’re following?”

  Will pinched my thigh, but I ignored him. I gave Ulysses my most innocent look, as if my interest were purely theoretical.

  “Taken? What makes you think they’ve taken him?”

  I tried to keep my voice steady. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “We don’t know he’s been taken. But we know they’ve been here.”

  “Were they drilling in Minnesota?” I asked.

  To drill for another republic was treason, which might explain why Kai and his father disappeared so quickly and why the RGs were looking for them. It still didn’t explain the pirates’ interest, but if Kai’s father had discovered a secret river, the pirates would want the water for themselves. If pirates wanted what the Minnesotans had, there would be a fight. And here we were, traveling with Ulysses right into the heart of it.

  “Not drilling,” said Ulysses. “Planning.” I didn’t say anything, but Ulysses kept talking. “There’s a hydrologist works out of the research center—Dr. Tinker. Older guy, looks like Albert Einstein. He gives them information, and they do the same.”

  “But he’s a Minnesotan,” I said.

  “It’s people who draw these boundaries,” said Ulysses. “The earth and sky don’t have borders.”

  “Maybe. But the Minnesotans think they do.”

  “As I said, we’re just talking. Convincing comes later.”

  Ulysses might have said more, but the flash came first, followed by the sound. It was as if lightning struck three times in quick succession, except the sky was clear, and thunderstorms were a thing of fiction and holo-casts. Then the concussive booms followed, each one more violent than the last.

  What happened next was unlike anything I had ever seen or was likely to see again. The middle section of the great dam began to collapse. It happened in slow motion: the walls trembled and seemed to melt inward, then a fissure opened in the middle into which each end was gradually swallowed.

  Water, billions and billions of liters, rushed over the top of the broken wall and into the valley below. It spilled from the great dam, sweeping trucks, concrete, and people before it. It came down from the cliffs and rushed toward us, as fast and furious as a tidal wave or an earthquake—an unleashed, angry river, the power of which was something no person could control.

  We didn’t even have time to run.

  CHAPTER 9

  The first thing I noticed when I awoke was that my clothes were soaking wet and plastered to my body. I had never been wet without a mask, and never when fully dressed. It was a huge waste of water, potentially dangerous and likely to make me sick. These were the lessons I had learned in the classroom, at a desk in a school that was now hundreds of kilometers away.

  I tried to move, but my sides ached painfully. One leg was bent behind me as if it belonged to someone else. My hands were scratched and bleeding, and I could taste more blood in my mouth. I felt for teeth and was relieved to find they appeared to be intact. I pressed against them with my tongue, confirming that none were loose or broken. I managed to lift my head a few centimeters from the ground, but I could only see mud, rocks, and water. I could also hear a rushing sound, like a steady wind blowing through sand. But there was no wind and no sand. My head sank back into the mud.

  It came back to me then. The explosions. The dam collapsing. Ulysses throwing open the doors and pushing us from the truck. After that everything was a blur. The waters caught me and swept me away. It was like the ancient river our father had described—so much water rushing wildly over everything in its path. I struggled to stay afloat, then just let myself be taken wherever the river intended.

  Time passed. I didn’t know how much. It might have been an hour; it might have been a day. Although I felt dizzy and was in pain, I was able to pull my leg beneath me and, by propping myself up with my elbows, move into a sitting position. From there I could see the ruined landscape, the chunks of concrete and metal. Water ran everywhere, and even the skies were dark and muddied. There was no sign of the dam or of the people and machines, although I could still see the cliffs where the structure had once been seamlessly joined. No Will. No Ulysses. Everything had been swept away.

  I realized how hungry I was, and despite being soaked, how thirsty. I cupped my hands to sip some water from the pool in front of me. In school the teachers had drilled it into us not to drink anything that didn’t have a government stamp on it, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d drunk. The water might make me sick, but what choice did I have? I leaned over and scooped the liquid into my hands.

  The water was delicious—cool, fresh, and invigorating. It tasted like the water Kai had brought with him to dinner at our home: real water, unfiltered and without chemicals, straig
ht from the sky into a river, from which it flowed up to the dam. I scooped up several more handfuls, drinking my fill until my belly hurt, and I burped loudly.

  I sat straighter and looked around again. I guessed it was the middle of the afternoon. Though it was warmer than normal for the time of year, within a few hours, it would soon grow cold. I knew I couldn’t survive the night outside in wet clothes. Already I felt chilled to the bone, and my fingers were numb. If I didn’t start moving, I might perish just from sitting still. I placed my palms on the ground and pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. I swayed woozily in the thick air until my balance returned. Then I began to walk.

  At first I followed the river downstream. It seemed natural to follow the flow of water, which rippled and coiled like a living thing. But as my head cleared, I realized the chances of finding survivors were greater back at the dam. There was more likely to be food and shelter there too. So I turned, retraced my steps, and made my way upriver.

  With each step my feet squeaked. The water had soaked through my shoes, and my toes rubbed against hard plastene. I had barely walked a kilometer before my skin was raw. Another kilometer, and my toes were bloody. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to go on. Step, step, step. I counted each one. As I got closer to the dam, I saw a pile of clothes abandoned by the side of the river, but when I approached, I realized it was actually a dead body twisted in a gruesome way. I covered my eyes and moved quickly ahead. However, the dead bodies were everywhere. Their faces were bloated, and their limbs were discolored and swollen. It was hard to believe that water could kill so many people, but the proof was right there in front of me. Perhaps the people caught by the river could not believe it either until the water had swept them away.

  I tried hard not to think about Will, but I couldn’t help looking at each body, praying that none was him. Ulysses had pushed us both from the truck, and Will had grabbed my hand. But the river separated us immediately, plunging us down into the watery depths from which I emerged alone. If Will was out there, he had surfaced somewhere else. I had to believe he was looking for me as I was looking for him. I refused to accept any other truth but that he had managed to survive somehow. It was my only hope, and it kept me moving. Each step might bring us closer.

  Then I saw something that made my heart hammer in my chest: a familiar jacket and a long scarf. It was Ali, the pirate who had sat with us in the back of the truck. His mouth was open in an expression of surprise, as if he had tried to drink the water before it killed him. Nearby I recognized another pirate, and then another. Altogether there were six of them grouped closely, soaked and exposed, tattoos blending with purplish bruises and swollen skin. Their bulletproof clothing had not saved them from drowning. In fact, the weight had dragged them under. But I was relieved to discover Ulysses was not among them, nor could I see the dogs, Cheetah and Pooch. I averted my eyes and walked swiftly away.

  It was growing dark. Nothing moved except the water. It appeared to be endless, still flowing out of the dam, running downstream toward who knew where. My teeth throbbed, and the skin on my hands was shriveled and yellowed. I sat on the wet ground. This time I couldn’t control the sobs. They consumed me, wracking my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. I was alone, truly alone. I was cold, hungry, and wet, and in a matter of hours, it would be too dark to see. Nothing but ruin surrounded me in every direction. There was no place for shelter, no safety. My brother was missing; Kai was gone; the pirates were dead; and all was lost. I cried until I could cry no more, and my head pounded in agony.

  Then in the distance, I saw a light. It swept across the landscape, probing and inquisitive. It shot high into the sky, then swept low across the land. I stood and waved, summoning it to draw close. I didn’t care about the danger or who might be near. Nothing could be worse than staying out all night alone in the soaked and broken land. A light meant people, and people would mean food, water, dry clothes. I jumped up, trying to catch the beams with my hands. But the light danced and shimmied, never resting in any one place for long. Several times it arced above my head, then fell short just before my feet. It seemed to have a mind of its own, sniffing out the corners of the earth in search of something only it knew. Then for several minutes it disappeared entirely, and I thought I was doomed. But it reemerged in a different position—closer and more intense. I broke into a run, trying to capture it before it disappeared again.

  I heard the men, then—loud voices shouting and the crackling of radios. I heard something else too that made me stop in my tracks: gunfire. Short staccato bursts. I had never heard gunfire before, but it was unmistakable. Each bullet was clear, crisp, and final. A string of them together sounded like balloons popping in a frenzied burst. I turned to run, but it was too late; the light caught me, and I was frozen in its glare.

  Two gloved hands grabbed me and threw me roughly to the ground. I didn’t even try to fight; I just lay there, silently waiting for the end. Then the light was upon me, so bright I couldn’t even open my eyes. I heard a voice, but I couldn’t understand the words. Kee-ay-too, the voice said. Kee-ay-too?

  It’s French, I thought. The men were Canadian. Had the truce between Minnesota and Canada been broken? Were the countries at war? The world was too large and complex to grasp. The intricate allegiances of governments and people seemed to flutter as unpredictability as that butterfly in the jet stream. I was just a girl trying to find my brother, my friend, and my way home.

  Then in perfect English, the voice said, “Who are you?”

  I opened my eyes, but I still could not see.

  “Who are you?” the voice repeated again.

  “Vera,” I said.

  “How did you get here?”

  “The pirates brought me.”

  “Shut off the damned light,” said the voice.

  The world was plunged back into night. Now I could see the man standing over me. He wore a green beret, a dark green shirt, and green camouflage pants. The men surrounding him were dressed similarly. I assumed they were wearing the uniform of the Canadian army, or maybe the Water Guard. Will would know if he were here. I fought back another round of tears.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “The People’s Environmental Liberation Army,” the man said proudly.

  I had heard of PELA but thought the organization was just a horror story told by shakers to frighten kids. PELA did terrible things—bombing desalinization plants, poisoning reservoirs, kidnapping and killing WAB ministers, burning oil supplies. They made pirates look like respectable citizens. Now I was in their hands.

  “Did you blow up the dam?”

  “Of course we blew up the dam,” said the man. He seemed offended that I might think otherwise.

  “And kill all those pirates?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “And what about the Minnesotans?”

  “They’re dead too.”

  I took in all this information. It was almost too much to bear. My father once told us that all people believed in the same God, although each had a different name for Him. But Will said there was no God, just a need for people to believe. Wherever they were, I hoped Ali and the pirates were at peace.

  “Are you the leader?” I asked.

  “I’m Nasri,” said the man. “Chief environmental scientist.”

  “You’re not much of a scientist.”

  “Who do you think invented those explosives? Ordinary dynamite or C4 couldn’t blow such a structure.”

  Nasri was practically hopping on one foot, as if he couldn’t wait to get going in some race. He was small and wiry with a short beard and stubbly hair. Once I got a good look at him, he didn’t frighten me at all, although his eyes looked wild—one brown, one blue—and I could see them shining even in the darkness. His men hung back, as if they didn’t know whom he might strike next. There were eight of them, each bearded, each wearing the same combat outfit.

  “They’ll come after you,” I said. “Now that they know you’ve blown the dam.�
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  “You’re an expert?” asked Nasri. “It’s twenty-five kilometers to Canada, and there’s clear passage all the way to Niagara.”

  Canada? Were Nasri and his men allied with the Canadians? If so it was a strange alliance. The Canadians had destroyed the environment, hoarding much of Earth’s water and killing thousands of species of fish and land animals. Years ago their prime minister had been indicted for environmental crimes by the world court, although he was never prosecuted after the court was destroyed in a terrorist attack and the chief justice was killed.

  “Shouldn’t be surprised,” said Nasri. “The Canadians need us, and we need the Canadians. Suits all our purposes.”

  “But what about when the war is over?”

  Nasri laughed—a short, sharp bark. “The war will never be over. Not as long as there’s water on Earth. Humans will fight for the last drop.”

  “I don’t believe it. Earth is too important.”

  “Ha! You’re an environmentalist.”

  “If being an environmentalist means blowing things up and killing people, I’d rather be a pirate.”

  Nasri stopped hopping and fixed me with a glare. “No one’s giving you a choice. Now get moving.” He pushed me hard toward his men.

  “I can’t walk anymore. I think my toes are broken.”

  Nasri signaled with one open hand, and a hover-carrier appeared as if from nowhere, pulling up beside him and floating silently. I had never seen a hover-carrier before. They were very expensive, owned only by the military and the wealthiest WABs. Fast, sleek, and silent, a hover-carrier could reach speeds of 250 kilometers an hour without kicking up any dust as it glided over the rocks and dirt. I couldn’t imagine how PELA could afford one, but before I could even ponder that riddle, two more hover-carriers glided to a halt beside the first. Men in camouflage jumped from the back and stood at attention, waiting for Nasri’s orders.

  “Search the bodies,” he said. “Take any weapons you find and all their personal effects. We’ll ransom them back to the families.”