by London Shah
“Happy New Year, Papa,” I whisper to the outside. Hold on. “Happy New Year, baby.” I kiss and hug Jojo.
I turn to Ari, who’s joined me in the viewport. “Happy New Year, Ari.”
A glimmer of warmth flickers across his face. His eyes shimmer briefly, before fading. Pity. He looked so different just then, so much softer.
He stares into space, a grim twist to his mouth. “Your father’s missing,” he says. “Up in the Faroe Islands, in Eysturoy, we’re not free. Death clouds everything we do. We live like prey in hiding. Dodging and defending, never knowing if the day will bring the murderers our way. We’re not protected as you are down here. Tell me, when the people you love are tortured, lost, when their lives are taken by such inhumane means and there’s nothing you can do about it—where’s the happiness in that?”
His voice drips with unmistakable sadness, and I feel a heaviness in my chest. It’s the most he’s revealed about himself since hiding on board. He buries his thoughts and feelings so much. . . . I recall Grandpa’s words: His community was the one attacked. He lost someone close to him during the onslaught.
“Who—who did you lose? Grandpa said you recently lost someone?”
His eyes flit across the water. His gaze grows dark, his voice hesitant, barely audible. “Lance. A friend. He lost his family in an attack last year. He . . . He never hurt anyone in his life. They attacked two weeks ago. Lance died.” There’s an ache in his eyes and voice.
I swallow. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Poor Lance. We will defeat those beasts, you know. The Anthro—”
“There’s no hope.” He swings his gaze back in my direction, his expression unreadable. “For any of us.”
The sheer bitterness and resentment in his voice is hard and uncompromising.
I shake my head. “There’s always hope,” I say quietly. “We can always change things. I’ll finally know the truth when Papa’s with me, what’s really going on. We can fix things and clear his name. And then maybe he can help you somehow? The authorities shouldn’t get away with abandoning you like this. You should have as much protection as we have down here.”
Jojo jumps down from my arms and heads for the Bliss-Pod. Time for bed. I follow to settle her in. “Auld Lang Syne” begins playing on-screen.
“No,” Ari whispers under his breath, his voice deep and rueful as he gazes out. Is he speaking to me? Even blessed with the sharpest hearing, I have to strain to hear him. “No, the truth won’t set you free, Leyla McQueen.”
The certainty in his voice is startling. My insides sink. The sub may as well be descending into the deepest, darkest trench.
He’s wrong.
The truth is always better.
I return to the window. There’s an immovable weight inside threatening to engulf me, drag me down. Somewhere just beneath it is the daring to hope.
I’m on my way. Hopefully one step closer to Papa. I stand still and hold my breath as the M25 passes by below and the craft speeds over the London borders. I blow my cheeks out slowly. We’ve just left the protection and reassurance of the only home I’ve ever known.
The Kabul powers on, beyond.
Jojo is fast asleep. I sit on the sofa yawning, squeezing my eyes shut. When I look up, Ari stands watching me, a hint of concern on his face.
“You’re very tired. Assign me command rights so you can get some sleep,” he says.
Though the words are authoritative, his tone isn’t. There’s a surprisingly gentle edge to it.
I lower my gaze. I am drained, well and truly zonked out. After a fitful night’s sleep that included the dreaded nightmare, I woke up early to get everything done on time for the departure. Today must be the longest day of my life. But let him take over the sub?
His gaze is steady. “You don’t trust me.”
Gramps trusts him with my life. He’s already saved it once, along with Jojo’s. And even though he’s secretive and makes me feel apprehensive, I actually do trust him.
“You need to sleep,” he insists. “You’ve done enough. You can take charge after you’ve rested. If you’re tired, you’ll make mistakes. Let me take care of things for now.”
“Fine . . . but I don’t want us traveling as I sleep.” I look away.
He opens his mouth to speak. I cut him off by summoning the
Navigator. Oscar has changed, now sporting a plum velvet-and-satin dressing gown, with matching slippers.
“Oscar, grant Ari full primary rights, please. And then find us a safe place for the night. We can continue on in the morning.”
If only Ari would be open with me . . . I turn to him. “What did you mean earlier, when you said we were always content with our own lives no matter what was going on with others?”
He inclines his head and lifts his eyes to my face, the bright gaze piercing from beneath thick lashes. A muscle tics along his jaw as he watches me think.
“It’s because of the government,” I say. “Because . . . they don’t protect you. . . .”
He gives a curt nod, his face giving nothing away.
“You said we believe everything we’re told. What did you mean?”
“It’s nothing,” he says quietly, remaining still. “Forget it.”
“Please, if you care at all about my grand—”
“Gideon?” He snorts. “I told you. My father gave me no choice. They’re friends.” He shakes his head, sneering at the idea. I’m more confused than ever, but I need answers, so I don’t react to his words. “After they attacked us, I had to leave immediately,” he adds.
“Because you’d have gone after the beasts who killed Lance?”
His gaze flickers, and he nods.
I shake my head. “Why do you blame everyone when it’s just the gov—”
“Because you stay silent! Your only concern is with yourselves,” he spits, raking his fingers through his hair. He folds his arms and takes a deep breath, as if trying to stay calm.
“Huh? Who? All Londoners? Who stays silent? How do you mean?” I prickle. “We only care about ourselves? It’s you who’s willing to hit out at anyone and everyone you meet!”
I grab the Bliss-Pod, hoping I haven’t made a mistake assigning him primary rights to the sub, and hasten out of the room before he can reply. Argh. He’s so bloody insufferable!
When I enter the master bedroom, though, I forget everything.
Wow. It’s bigger than any bedroom I’ve ever had and decorated in an exquisite Far Eastern vibe. Japanese-inspired style is everywhere.
The walls are actually papered. Copper wallpaper glistens with the printed silhouettes of branches and twigs reaching out delicately over its surface. I brush my hands across it. Dark wood and pale blossoms fill the room. Velvets and brocade in olive and plum colors make the place feel sumptuous and warm. And it’s actually carpeted.
It’s the most perfectly blissful room I’ve ever seen.
There’s a large, circular porthole as tall as me; the ebony waters surge past. I command the blinds to close.
Past the bed are screen doors that lead to a bathroom, and a smashing wardrobe space, all digitally managed and fully working. I shake my head.
I could never have even dreamed of this. It’s a complete home. Everything Papa and I could possibly want or need tucked away inside. So utterly perfect. It’s barmy to think it’s ours.
A warm shower later, I crawl into the luxurious bed and all tension just slips away. The softness of the mattress! I wave my hand around, playing with the mood lighting for a while, exploring its different strengths and colors. First off, a cozy marigold glow.
Within seconds, I drift into a deep sleep.
“Look at it, Jojo,” I whisper, hugging the puppy in the morning. I kneel a few feet away from the window, staring through it. Jojo’s brown gaze brightens as she snuggles closer.
The sight is mesmerizing.
The submarine moves through a giant kelp forest growing on high ground.
Faint natural light seep
ing through makes all the difference, and the vivid colors of the looming plant life against the blue of the water is astonishing. The stipes stretch upward, fronds swaying along their lengths like a thousand arms. Striking sea creatures dart among the mass of gangly stems. The kelp bows to the weight of the vessel as it plows through.
“What do you think, baby? It’s something else, isn’t it?”
Jojo nuzzles my arm and I laugh, leaning in to cover her with kisses.
Ari’s listening to music; low, soothing notes echo from elsewhere on the sub. Such stirring, melancholic tones. A piece searching for something. The music stops. The sub begins rising.
I play some more with the puppy, when she cocks her ears and jumps down from my lap.
“Hey, where are you—” Well, of course.
A towering Ari stands watching us. Jojo circles his legs, her tail wagging. I peer up from under the hood of my long black robe.
He’s showered, his wavy shoulder-length hair glistening black. He’s barefoot, wearing a black T-shirt and casual bottoms. The knife hangs from his hip as usual. I stand, my hand reaching for the pocket of my robe. I hesitate and let it fall away.
“You’re awake. Good,” he says. It really is such a husky voice. “There’s something you must see.”
He gestures behind me. The vessel stops rising. What does he want to show me? I turn around.
There are no words.
I suck in a quick breath. My heart seems to stop, and then it races.
It’s the single most beautiful sight ever. Like, ever. It’s otherworldly. Sacred. My whole body tingles. For the first time, I walk right into the very tip of the vessel and place both hands against the window.
It is the sun.
A plane of liquid light shines in every direction, the shimmering rays reaching down like glistening words of solace, as if to remind humanity the sun is still here. It embraces me, soothing me until I feel buoyant. It’s a privileged glimpse into the Old World, this world, other worlds—the universe.
My eyes prickle. Blood rushes in my body, warming my face. My heart expands.
I’m alive.
I stare in silence for the longest time. I turn to say something. Ari’s in the tip of the vessel now, holding Jojo up so she, too, can see. He murmurs to her in his low, comforting tones. I glance at the water again and gasp at yet another new sight. Lilac jellyfish are suspended in the glimmering light.
They’re completely worthy of drifting along in the semi-luminous waves. If fairies were real, this is how they’d look. The diaphanous bodies are covered in pink-purple specks and move so effortlessly. Their arms sway, like purple ink released in the water.
I let out a long and blissful sigh. How did he know I’ve never seen the sun?
“It’s—it’s so . . . Thank you. I’ve never seen anything like it.” I can’t find the right words.
How do you describe magic? You can’t. Sometimes . . . just sometimes, words aren’t enough. Some things are beyond verbal language.
Ari turns to face me, hesitant. I meet his gaze. His own softens as he watches me intently. My mouth curves into a small smile. His eyes flash the fieriest honey gold.
Yes, he’s rude, and aloof, and annoying—and most definitely keeps trying to steal Jojo away from me, but he’s also . . . Again, I can’t find the right words. I reach into my pocket.
He gazes at the golden parchment figure in the palm of my hand. A seahorse.
“I like to make them. Erm, here.” I hold my hand out to him. “It’s for you. Thank you. For helping Jojo and me.”
He hesitates and swallows, before taking the paper model. He turns it over in his hands and looks back at me. His chest rises and falls as he stares. The gentlest warmth surfaces in the amber depths of his gaze as he holds my own.
Oscar appears in front of me and I jump. The Navigator opens his mouth to speak, when Ari suddenly stiffens, his eyes widening and his face turning thunderous.
He launches himself at Oscar.
What the—
Ari leaps straight through the Navigator and grabs me, pulling me down. He crouches over me. I shake. Jojo leaps around, growling and barking.
“Don’t look,” he implores, his tone urgent. “You mustn’t look outside the window.”
Oscar still speaks, but I can’t make out his words. My mind races.
There’s only one thing he’d not want me to know is out there.
I duck under his arm and glance up. Nothing. Not even the jellyfish. He saw something, though. Ari realizes I’m looking out and tugs at my shoulder to turn me away from the view. I swing my head over to the right.
I can’t scream. I open my mouth and try, but no sound comes out.
It snarls. A predatory expression rages in its eyes as it meets my gaze. Its hair fans out around its face, the mouth open, allowing the water to freely enter.
An Anthropoid.
It stretches through the water toward us, pounding on the window. It jerks its head back and then, with startling velocity, bolts out of sight.
“Ari.” The whisper barely leaves my lips.
He hears, holding me as I curl up on the ground. I can’t breathe. He turns my face toward his, gently gripping my shoulders, telling me to take deep breaths. I shake my head. Every part of my body trembles. My heartbeat lashes away in my ears.
An Anthropoid. Looking deceptively human, except it’s an abomination.
His eyes implore me to focus. “You’re safe,” he insists. “He can’t enter the sub.”
What are those rasping sounds? It’s me.
I stare at him. “But it’s one of them. They’re beyond cunning. What are we going to do?”
We’re still staring at each other trying to work it out, when we both sense an ominous change and our heads whip around to the viewport.
The Kabul has slowed.
Ari’s hands fall away from my face; he grabs my hand, helps me up, and we run out of the room, calling for Jojo to follow.
Oscar repeats what he’s been saying since he appeared. “My dear lady, there has been an Anthropoid sighting in the vicinity of the vessel.”
Then:
“There appears to have been a security breach.”
Ari glances back at me in the passageway. “The moon pool, did you secure it? I didn’t have command rights at the time. Did you lock the door?”
My eyes widen. “Oh my God. Deathstar, the mechanic, he—he told me to secure it. I totally forgot! Oscar, is the moon pool door still unlocked? Are you able to secure it?” I pause, leaning against the wall, breathing fast. It’s too hot, and my pulse hammers away. How could I have forgotten to take care of it? What have I done?
Oscar nods. “Why, of course, my lady. May I mention how this submarine has been fitted with the very latest in remote security applications? Why, one could—”
“Please lock the pool access door this instant, Oscar!”
“As you wish.” The Navigator bows. “The door is now locked.”
“And why have we slowed down?”
“The propeller. There appears to be something wrong with it, my dear. While it is still functioning, its thrust has noticeably decreased.”
“Oscar, if it slows down any more, let me know, and try to find out more about what exactly is wrong with it. And you can check for heartbeats on board, right? Run a scan.”
The Navigator tilts his head. “I detect a total of five heartbeats on board. Two without clearance.”
Oh my God. I stumble back and Ari helps. Two. Two of them. On board the submarine right now. The passageway is closing in. I shake my head.
A noise sounds from somewhere below.
Ari turns to me. “Stay up here.” His eyes beg me not to argue. “Remain locked in until I say it’s safe.”
“No.”
He swears, shaking his head. He grabs the knife kept around his waist and holds it out front.
“Oscar,” I whisper. “Is it possible to pinpoint the exact location of the unregistered hear
tbeats on board?”
He tilts his head to confirm. “Both unapproved guests are in the engine room, my dear.”
Ari’s expression darkens. “Lock yourself in the saloon with Jojo. Take this.” He thrusts the knife in my direction. “I have other weapons.”
“Keep the knife. I have my brolly. How are you going to fight them all by yourself? It’s impossible—”
“You must go! Please.”
I head back to the saloon, locking the door as he approaches the staircase. My whole body trembles now. Jojo whines, burrowing her nose into me.
“It—it’s all right, baby. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”
My throat aches, as if a large stone has lodged itself there. I grab the brolly. A crashing sound makes me jump. I run to the door, putting my ear against it. What’s going on? I beckon the Navigator for an update.
“My dear, there are three heartbeats in the engine room now. Two are unregistered, and the third is that of the gentleman, Ari.”
I should’ve stayed with him. Nobody can survive two Anthropoids at once. I unlock the door and inch it ajar, holding the brolly out in front of me. It won’t stay still; my hand shakes too much and the noises aren’t helping. Angry, muffled exchanges, followed by shouting.
I edge along the passageway, forcing one leg in front of the other. Jojo insists on following me and no amount of silent gesturing will get her to return to the saloon. Indistinct sounds carry up from the lower level. I creep down the stairs.
Finally I can make out the words and I jolt.
“And what about our dead?” one of them shrieks.
More muffled sounds—Ari.
A female voice shouts, “You are wrong! They will be avenged!”
Then loud thumping and clanging, followed by groans and cries. Oh God . . .
I move along the passageway, willing the quivering in my legs to cease. No luck. I can’t get all the footage, all the horrific images I’ve ever watched on the news, out of my head. The indiscriminate slaughter this species has carried out.
The engine room door slides open. My pulse pounds away as I slip inside. The hot space thrums. I flinch at each noise, moving around pipe after pipe and rows of tanks.
