by London Shah
My heart drops, sinking lower and lower.
I’ve watched countless graphic simulations, all the live recordings, documentaries, and endless replays—we all have, and still do—of what happened. But they’re nearly always framed by someone else’s gaze. To hear a firsthand account from Grandpa, knowing it’s his own experience, is something else. No wonder he doesn’t like to talk about it.
I swallow and slip my hand in his. “And Benjy?”
“Benjy . . . he vanished when the tremors began. We searched everywhere, and then we had to leave for the holding centers.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he made it and spent the rest of his days with a loving family.” He pats my hand at the thought.
My mouth trembles. I lean in even closer. “Gramps, did you ever wonder if your biological parents survived?”
He takes a shaky breath, his eyes weary and far away as he wraps an arm around me. “Constantly, in the beginning. Even though all evidence pointed to the contrary. And then it was confirmed a few years later—my parents were just two of the billions that died during the disaster.” He takes a deep breath and exhales it in a short puff. “People had hoped taking to the seas would save them from what was to come, but eventually all such last-hope vessels found their way to the bottom of the world.”
Image after horrific image flashes before me; I shudder. This is the most Grandpa’s said about that time.
He waves a shaky hand in the air. “And that’s when my aunt Esther took off with me—the moment she heard of my parents’ plans for us all. It was such a confusing time for everyone. It was chaos, everywhere. There wasn’t a scam people didn’t think of. And then there were doomsayers, and mass suicides, and of course those that welcomed the news, were excited at the prospect of such a dramatic change. The poor couldn’t afford to be excited by it, though; they never welcomed it, child.” He shakes his head.
I gulp. “How come you were fostered? Why didn’t you stay with your aunt Esther?”
“After the disaster, she became my only living relative. And she died six weeks later. Toxins from the water leaked into places, spreading disease and death. So many were lost in those weeks immediately after. Nobody had anticipated just how much water was held deep in the planet’s mantle. When the rock’s impact released it, the levels just kept rising, child. Where they would stop was anybody’s guess. Too many buildings didn’t hold up to the devastating reality, the pressure on them far more than had been accounted for. Traffic accidents . . . So many unforeseen matters.” He lets out a long, heavy sigh and squeezes my shoulder. “Respice, adspice, prospice.”
I swallow past the heartache, nodding. “ ‘The past, the present, the future.’ And I will, Gramps, promise. I’ll try to look in every direction, as best I can—always.” My voice is hushed. I squeeze his hand. “Do you miss it—the Old World? Did you spend years wishing everything would go back to how it was? Does that world seem like a dream now?”
“The memories remain very real. I’ve never quite forgotten the fear. And the nightmares never really left. Of course I wish we still lived on the earth’s surface. But you know, Queenie, the Old World wasn’t quite the utopia it’s made out to be. The reality was very different. The changes in the climate . . . It had become a frightening place. Certainly a far cry from the Lost World.” He chuckles.
The Lost World is one of the Campbells’ hotels. I visited it recently when the twins took me for a sixteenth-birthday treat. Located in Notting Hill, it reflects life in the first three decades of the twenty-first century, just before the whole planet was reordered in 2035. It’s the most blissful place I’ve ever experienced. Every single thing is perfect: trees grow, birds sing, flowers bloom, the sun shines, children play outside. It looks and feels like magic.
Grandpa tucks long strands behind my ears. “You made me so proud, what you did in the race, child. I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you. ‘And fill your hearts with love and selflessness . . .’ ”
“I know this, wait, Sri Sathya Sai Baba?” I bite my lip. He smiles, nodding. “But, Gramps, is it selflessness if you don’t want someone’s death on your conscience? Is that a selfless act, or were you looking out for yourself?”
“I never, ever want you to doubt that you are a loving human being, Leyla Fairoza McQueen. Do you understand?”
I nod.
His face eases into a smile, his eyes glistening as he taps me on my nose. “Meeting your papa was the best thing to happen to me. He doesn’t need to be related to me to be my son. He is my son. The McQueens are my family. You remember the day you took my vintage Dragon out for a spin?” He grins. “You were only twelve. I think I almost had a heart attack when I glanced up to catch you driving past my study in the sub. I saw my whole world come crashing down before me. I told myself I’d never see you again.”
“I’m so sorry about that, Gramps. It was such a smashing shade of purple, I just had to have a go.”
He chuckles. “You were deeply apologetic when you brought it back an hour later, but practically floating with exhilaration as well. You know, your mother was exactly like you, Queenie. Nobody could ever tell Soraya she wasn’t allowed to do something. Once she got an idea into her head . . .” He gazes off into the distance, a deep sadness in his eyes. “Your mother would have been so proud. I’ll be looking out for you; we all will be.” He clears his throat. “It’s a dangerous world out there, and I must do what I can to keep you safe, child. Please understand that whatever I do, it’s only with your survival and success in mind.”
“I know that, Grandpa, don’t worry. I understand.”
“And you have everything you need, yes?”
Not really, Gramps. I’ll be traveling illegally . . . I nod in reply and shift around. How dare I get mad at him for keeping things from me when I’m now doing exactly the same to him.
“Good. You will find your father, and I know he would want to explain things to you himself. As much as I want to speak to you about some matters, it isn’t my place.”
Like what? My curiosity’s piqued. I’ve always known Gramps isn’t telling me everything—even when he finally told me the truth about Papa’s disappearance—but hearing him confirm it now sends my mind spinning. What’s so important that only Papa can tell me? I open my mouth, but then close it again. I can wait until Grandpa joins me at his cottage. We chat some more. Finally, it’s time. I gulp hard and hold on to him, reluctant to let go.
Despite once losing everything, his family, friends, his home—the world as he knew it—Gramps never lost hope. His eyes shine with tears now. “See you at my cottage. Shalom, Queenie.”
I kiss him on the cheek. “Salaam, Gramps. See you soon.”
I swallow and turn to the gangway. A couple of technicians and Deathstar are walking down, and they tell me their job is done. The Kabul is good to go.
“You take awesome care of yourself, and of my baby here.” The mechanic grins as he gestures to the sub. “The Navigator will alert you to anything that might need attention in the engine room, but you’ll be taken through it step by step if that ever happens, so no worrying. Oh, and you might want to secure the moon pool door—as of six minutes ago I’m no longer this baby’s daddy, and she’s stopped listening to me.” The corners of his mouth droop.
I shudder as I picture an opening into the abyss. “Don’t worry, I’ll never have the moon pool door unlocked.” I thank the genius with a hug.
I pause by the entrance and wave at Grandpa. Taking a lengthy breath, I blow my cheeks out as I exhale.
And then enter my submarine.
I make my way toward the muffled voices coming from the saloon. Tabby’s telling Theo off about something. They hush as I approach. Tabby’s
lips are pressed flat, her arms folded. She holds my gaze and smiles.
Theo offers a half smile and clears his throat. “You’re here, Leyla. Great. Everything’s ready. Come on; need to update you. We love the name, by the way.”
We take a tour of the whole vessel apart from the now pressurized airtight chamber. I peek into the smaller connecting chamber beside it, spotting the submersible. It’s a compact twin-seated vessel, its exterior protected by an impenetrable titanium cage.
I remember my picture and reach into my bag. It’s one of my favorite images—passed on to me from Papa—and I gaze at it as I hang it outside the moon pool room. How surreal and yet strangely affirming that this image of a scene from back in 332 BC should hang here; how different the world!
The print depicts Alexander the Great being lowered into the sea in a glass diving bell. Apparently he made several dives this way. The painting was part of a quintet created for Akbar, the great Mughal emperor. And now a print hangs in my submarine—the Kabul, no less—in London, on the eve of the twenty-second century. I know ancient Persia was a very long time ago, but sometimes it also feels as if the human race just blinked and now we’re living inside the seas—never mind being lowered in glass diving bells from the sides of boats. No wonder Papa often refers to time and space as magic!
“Leyla!” Tabby cuddles Jojo in her arms as she stares at me. “You don’t have the time to be distracted right now!”
We move on as she goes over everything with me. She’s already unpacked and put away almost all of the boxes. The kitchen and stores are stocked.
“Don’t forget what I said about my modification,” Theo reminds me. “In theory, the anti-tracking device should kick in once you get going, ensuring you don’t pop up on the Traffic Ordinance Council’s system. But I’ve not had the chance to test it in practice. Your Navigator’s going to run a test when you’re underway, to make sure. If it comes back negative, stop off at the Brighton Pier resort in Belvedere—it’s more or less on your route anyway. My friend Sam knows you might show up. If there’s a problem with it, she’ll sort it.”
As he leads me to the control room, Theo’s expression suddenly brightens, his eyes shining. “Go on, ask for your Navigator!” he urges, strapping a new Bracelet onto my wrist.
I falter for a split second. What if I really don’t like their choice? “Navigator.”
Oscar Wilde himself appears before me.
I stare. “No way. NO BLOODY WAY! Oh my God, you guys!”
He’s exactly as he appears in the archives. Dressed flamboyantly, he wears fashionable Victorian clothes: a velvet waistcoat, plush jacket, and knee breeches. I peer closer—no glimmer. It’s amazing! Mr. Wilde acknowledges my delight and greets me, bowing with a flourish. He assures me in a soft voice and warm accent that there’s nothing to worry about, that I’m not alone in this.
I turn openmouthed to Theo, who throws his hands up, grinning.
“All right, I modified him quite a bit after they uploaded him. Mr. Wilde here is your super-Housekeeper.”
I’m mesmerized. He looks so real!
Theo’s expression turns serious. “The Navigator doesn’t know the route out. No specific journeys were logged because we couldn’t risk the officials knowing your exact plans. It’s the first place Sebastian would have his people check, and we need to give you as much time as possible. So you need to fill Oscar in now, Leyla.”
I nod. “Mr. Wilde, we’ll register our journey now, and then you’ll have our exact route.” Am I really chatting with Oscar Wilde as if he’s a real person? You bloody bet I am! Warmth floods my cheeks.
“Oscar, if you please,” my Navigator insists, in that debonair way I always imagined he would. “And take your time, my dear lady. If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.” He bows his head.
I recognize the quote and squeal with joy. There’s much more to come, Theo promises, filling me in on the Navigator’s capabilities.
“I love him. Thank you so much. Oh my God, you’re utterly brill!” I hug Theo, and we register the intended journey, indicating all the security bases that need avoiding along the way.
Jojo darts out of the control room, and Tabby rushes after her, calling to her.
I turn to Theo. “Promise me you won’t worry too much.”
He squeezes my arm. “We’ll be fine. You need to focus on you.” He suddenly leans away from me, pinching his bottom lip. “Leyla . . .” He clears his throat. “There’s something you need to know. You’ll— You won’t—”
Tabby walks in with Jojo. She glances at us and holds Theo’s gaze.
“I won’t what, Theo?” I ask.
He reddens and waves his hand. “Promise me you won’t get distracted from the plan.”
I reassure him as much as I can, even though I think he meant to say something else before Tabby reappeared, but I’ve no idea what. Then, as if without warning, it’s time.
Tabby is pale, her face tense, her usually bright eyes clouded as she moves closer to me. “I love you, I hope you know.” She swallows and reluctantly hands Jojo over.
I embrace her. “Don’t be daft. Of course I bloody know.” We both grin tearfully. “I love you, too. Everything’s going to be all right, you know. Try not to worry.”
Tabby rolls her eyes. “Still believe in all that hope and magic stuff, Leyla?”
“You should, too,” I insist, nodding.
Tabby looks so wistful and serious for a moment it makes my heart ache. “I believe any dad who raises his child to believe the world is full of magic and that there’s always hope—no matter what—truly deserves for her to rescue him one day when he needs it.”
“Oh, Tabs!” We hug again.
Theo’s eyes are wide as he embraces me. “Leyla. Promise us you’ll be careful. Promise.”
“I promise. Thank you so much. For everything, you guys. I love you both so much.”
We all huddle together in a silent embrace.
I want to scream as they walk away. The twins climb the stairs. The sound of the main access hatch shutting securely after them is almighty. They’re gone. I’m alone.
All of a sudden, my surroundings are too much, too heavy and demanding. My legs wobble as panic claws at me. No. Not now, dammit. Oscar appears. I jump at his sudden presence; I’ll need to get used to that.
“My dear, we are clear for departure.”
The enormous steel-and-wood cradle beneath the vessel slides slowly forward toward the huge door at the end of the hangar. Whoa. Deep breaths. I push my shoulders back. It’s time to get out of here to safety, and then to go looking for Papa myself. Once I’m at Grandpa’s cottage in King’s Lynn, I can plan my next move. He’ll have no choice then but to tell me everything he knows. And it will lead me one step closer to Papa. It has to.
I head for the saloon, requesting Oscar’s presence. Jojo has wandered off to explore before I can stop her. I peer out of the windows; several mechanics wave about, instructing one another as the craft moves. The twins and Grandpa have placed themselves in full sight. My pulse races. I hold my hand up one last time and they return the gesture, before receding from view.
Goodbye . . . Oh God.
The door rises. The mechanic beside it flashes a thumbs-up in my direction, and the vessel leaves the hangar behind.
Once inside a second enclosed area, the door shuts securely behind me. The chamber begins to flood. I pace the viewport, crossing and uncrossing my arms. Hopefully the Navigator knows exactly what he’s doing. I hold my breath as the water levels rise around me. At last, the exterior doors open. The sub abandons the cradling frame, moves forward out of the base, and enters London’s waters. I suck in my breath.
The craft rises at once. Bismillah.
My heartbeat whooshes away in my chest and ears. I peer in every direction. All kinds of laser lights blink across the rooftops. The New Year’s celebrations have begun. Beams—in every color, shape, and size—pulse through the liquid space in time to music that will be playing on screens until well past midnight. Lights ripple from distant homes as parties are already underway. The entire city glimmers. Forever lit up, London wraps its arms around its citizens. My heart stutters; will I be able to return once I f
ind Papa?
Higher now and the city is barely visible below. I stand still, absorbing everything. The deep, rhythmic hum inside the vessel is both heard and felt. The swell of the sea rising and falling is different in a submarine, heavier and yet smoother, almost soothing. The current is choppier, though. At this height it would prove challenging to control a submersible. Smaller, more agile vessels come into their own when navigating the streets, but the turbulent upper waters are too challenging for them. Heftier transport can travel high enough to even catch a little natural light.
Farther up now, and it may as well be the open sea.
Oh God. I shiver, taking quick breaths. I’ll have to find a way to counter the dread.
Something moves beside the craft. A small shape, rising and dipping. For the second time in days, a brilliant dolphin appears, the vehicle’s sidelights casting a silver gleam over its body. It swims playfully alongside the submarine before moving around to the front and blowing bubbles. My mouth curves into a hesitant smile. The marvelous creature can only be a good sign.
Maybe what lies ahead might not be as daunting as I fear?
“A calamity, my dear lady,” the Navigator ceremoniously
announces. “The test to ascertain the performance of the anti-tracking device has returned negative—the modification’s ability to function appears to be blocked in some way. If one were to hazard a guess, they might propose that the magnetic storm currently raging on the surface may be interfering with it.”
Damn. I’ll show up on the Traffic Ordinance Council’s systems, and I’ve no doubt the authorities are going to use it to track me—if they haven’t already. Trying not to let the setback get to me, I instruct Oscar to stop over at the Brighton Pier resort in Belvedere before heading for the borders. Soon as Theo’s friend has fixed the tech, we’ll be on our way again.
