by London Shah
Oh God. I look in every direction, spot signs for the ramp, and holding the shaky brolly out in front of me, I run. At last, I’m almost at the ramp.
Unfortunately, raised voices suddenly carry from that direction. My heart sinks. I peer around a corner where three prison officers stand arguing. The door leading to the ramp is just past them, and already open.
“Nothing to do with me,” shouts one. “I don’t work on the top floor, west wing.”
“And I’m on me break, mate,” says another. “After one hell of a watch. So—”
“I don’t give two friggin’ hoots whose watch it is!” bellows the third and loudest voice. “It’s a goddam madhouse up there, and you two are hiding your ugly mugs down here. So I’m asking you once more nicely, get your arses back upstairs and help them bring it all under control—before the ruckus spreads prison-wide!”
The men go on arguing about being expected to help when it isn’t their fault or problem. I rack my brains.
“Oscar?” I whisper into my Bracelet.
He appears before me, and I instantly instruct him to speak quietly.
“Oscar, I want you to distract the people around the corner so I can pass unnoticed behind them. Act all authoritative, all right? And quick, we don’t have long.”
Oscar flicks his hair and straightens his plush brocade waistcoat. “I shall not let you down, my dear,” he says, his voice lowered. “But I implore you to relax. Life is too important to be taken seriously.”
“Right, then . . . Go, Oscar. And remember—all authoritative now.” I chew on my lip.
The Navigator tilts his head and turns the corner. I grimace. The guards hush immediately. I peek around the wall.
“I say,” Oscar begins. “Would any of you handsome gentlemen care to take a walk with me through the rose gardens on this rather fine day?”
What the— Oh, I’m doomed!
Except they can’t take their eyes off Oscar. Their mouths fall wide open. I creep along behind them.
“One should always be searching for new sensations,” Oscar continues. “Be afraid of nothing, I say!”
I’m through the door in seconds and racing up the ramp to the second floor. I look down to ensure the bag’s still around my waist, when I crash headlong into someone.
It’s a prison officer rushing down in the opposite direction. Her eyes widen and she instantly brings her wrist up to her mouth. There’s no time to think.
I move back just enough to raise my brolly, and tase her until she drops.
I sprint on, exiting the ramp on the second floor. More damp and gloomy corridors.
The siren continues to sound. Footsteps approach. I press back into a wide doorway, narrowing my eyes. The wet walls glisten. Slimy wormlike creatures creep out of cracks in the wall opposite and gorge on the filth growing on the surface. I hold my breath. The footsteps fade and I bring up the plans for the second floor. I’m really close.
I cover my nose at the stench. The cold and damp claw at my throat. Grabbing a wheelchair, I pause outside the door on the very end. I drop the card twice, my hand trembling as I try to scan it.
At last, the door clicks open. The cell releases an icy breath. I step inside and stand frozen. I shake my head as my gaze sweeps the bare and impossibly small cell.
It’s empty. After all that . . . the cell’s empty.
A great gloom stirs inside me, a shadow spreading. A bucket in a corner and a few gray rags on the concrete slab against the wall are the only things in the mold-ridden room. There’s an overwhelming stench of decay.
Something moves among the rags.
I furrow my brow and look again on the empty, cold slab. I creep toward it. No . . . Oh my God. No, no, no. My lips and chin quiver. The “rags” are a person. I cry out, then quickly muffle the sound with my hand.
I turn the skeletal frame over and burst into tears. It’s Papa, and he looks . . . lifeless. I cover my mouth to stifle any noise. “Salaam, Papa,” I manage, choking back a sob.
Nothing. His eyes remain closed. Has he been drugged? I place my head against his chest; he’s breathing, thank God. I recite a quick prayer over him.
It takes a while, and several stop-starts, but I finally manage to secure Papa into the wheelchair. I open the cell door. My stomach drops to the floor.
A robot officer blocks our path, a long, sleek gun in its hand. Oh hell.
“You have made a category one mistake, intruder,” it says.
The tiny red eyes look me up and down. Lights pulse away all over its body as it insists I follow it. I freeze. What can I do? The bloody moon pool door could shut at any moment!
I slip my hand into the small bag around my waist. “Oscar?”
The robot turns as the Navigator materializes beside it in the corridor.
Now! I sprint from around the wheelchair and am almost behind the mechanical officer when it grabs my hand. I can’t reach around to its neck!
“Oscar, help me!”
But there’s not much the Navigator can do.
I point the brolly at the robot and flinch as I press down on the tase button, aiming for the raised section in its chest. Thankfully I don’t feel anything, but the robot relaxes its grip on my arm, its movements jerky.
I jump on it before it can recover.
I wrap my legs around its middle, reach behind for its neck, and stab repeatedly with the tool in my hand. Nothing. I struggle with the guard until I have a better view of the back of its neck. I swap the tool for another one from my bag, and slide the finer point carefully into the opening in the base of its neck. The robot pauses and its lights flicker. It drops its weapon.
I jump down just as the central compartment in its torso opens, revealing the tech inside. The lights go out, and the robot freezes in position. I grab the wheelchair and am about to rush off, when I glance again at the opening in its chest. I pull out and pocket what I think might be chips but could actually just be rubbish, and race away with Papa.
I retrace my footsteps, praying the entire way down the ramp that we don’t meet anyone. Luckily, nobody crosses our path except for the still-unconscious officer I’d tased on my way up. Exiting the ramp, I head for the chamber room. The door’s locked. Where’s McGregor? I swipe the lock with her card.
It refuses to open.
She’s been rumbled. It’s the only explanation.
My legs almost give way. I open up the tool bag and, remembering the instructions in Bia’s files, fiddle away with the lock. Nothing. I try again but it isn’t working. On discovering McGregor, they must’ve activated a locking system Bia’s lot weren’t aware of.
I stand, trying to think. “Oscar!”
The Navigator materializes. “Oscar, see if you can override the access system here. We need to get to the moon pool!”
The Navigator scans the access panel as I walk around and look into the chamber holding my vessel. Nothing. I peer past it, through its doors and into the moon pool room. That’s empty, too. The moon pool door’s still open, phew. But how do I get in!
And then surely my heart stops.
Because as I watch, a hand reaches out of the moon pool.
I can’t stop staring. Another hand, two arms.
And then a body hauls itself out of the water and onto the floor.
An Anthropoid.
And it isn’t Ari.
I stumble back. “Oscar . . .”
“Alas, my dear lady, I cannot seem to access this—”
I turn and grab the wheelchair. “Oscar, leave the damn lock. We need to hide! You may go now!” The Navigator disappears.
I scan the corridors around me and aim for a supply cove big enough to fit the wheelchair in. My heart won’t stop thrashing around inside my chest. I check on Papa and his condition hasn’t changed, his head lolling almost lifelessly to the side. I clasp my hands and lean down to whisper. “Inshallah, not long now, Papa.”
I risk edging my gaze around the wall. And freeze.
The A
nthropoid stands still in the doorway to the chamber. It’s dripping wet and casts its eyes in every direction. It’s tall, slim, and muscular, with short bright-red hair. I swiftly duck back behind the wall.
“Oscar.” I place him on silent the moment he appears. “I need you to go back toward the chamber and to escort anyone you see there upstairs. Keep them occupied and out of the way until I summon you again. They are hostile; you will switch to safe mode as you converse with them. Say whatever you need to, to get them to go with you. Is this understood?”
The Navigator nods, and I take him off silent. He disappears around the corner.
I peek at them, and after a brief exchange, the Anthropoid actually nods and follows Oscar away from the chamber. What is it doing here? Before the Anthropoid leaves, it turns to the door and fiddles with the access panel. No, don’t lock it again! They both leave, and I slowly wheel Papa out from behind the cove. We edge down the corridor and it’s empty. I check the door to the chamber and the lock’s been destroyed. They wanted to ensure they could leave again. But what are they doing here in the first place?
I use the wheelchair to push the door open and hurry inside. They could be back any moment. And the moon pool door will shut any minute now!
“McGregor?” I call out. Nothing. Please be all right.
I place Papa in the sub; his limp frame slumps into the seat. Soon as he’s secure, I turn to run around to the driver’s side.
And stop in my tracks. My insides fall to the floor.
The Anthropoid stands inside the chamber, not five feet from me.
My hand automatically reaches for my arm, and I grip the brolly. My legs start to quiver. I can’t take my eyes off them.
It’s a guy, around my age I think. He watches me, eyes narrowed with a hint of . . . surprise in them. He isn’t like the ones who attacked Brighton Pier. His eyes aren’t cold at all. The surprised expression now switches to one of concern. Why? What’s he doing here?
And I have the strangest sense I know him from somewhere. . . .
He opens his mouth but before he can get a word out, voices sound from elsewhere, urgent, and headed in our direction.
“Go!” the Anthropoid urges, his pale-green eyes wide now as he sticks his head out of the chamber room door. “I will hold them off, but we don’t have long. Get in your sub and leave!”
“Who are you? Why would you help?”
He whips his head around to me. “I’m a friend. Look, you’ll just have to trust me!”
Trust. After they boarded the sub and attacked us. And after all the lies the government has been telling. I’m expected to just trust not only a complete stranger but an Anthropoid, no less. What does trust even mean anymore?
What I do know is right now there’s no time to waste.
And that I trust Ari.
I nod and scramble around to the driver’s seat, jump in, and start the vessel up. I want to start moving but I can’t help looking back again.
The Anthropoid struggles with two human guards. Oh no. The guards will be in here any second, and I’ll have failed Papa! Everything needs to speed up! I shoot Papa a glance, and he really doesn’t look well.
The Anthropoid really is struggling, dammit.
Something inside me twitches.
What might they do to him? I try to block out the thought and concentrate on the craft, but it’s impossible. I glance again at Papa, scream inside, and grab my brolly.
The guards don’t see me exit. I crouch low. The moment I’m visible in the doorway I lift the brolly and tase the guard who isn’t directly touching the redheaded guy. They all turn to me, eyes wide. There’s no time, though. So I press down harder and don’t lift my finger until he drops. Just as the remaining guard is distracted looking down at the unconscious man, the Anthropoid punches him hard and he drops immediately. Then several more voices echo from down the corridor.
“Okay, now we really have to go!” the guy yells, and we both rush back into the chamber.
I jump in the craft and I’m soon through the first hatch, willing the acclimatizing program to hurry up. Finally, we can move on. No sooner does the submersible enter the moon pool room, though, than a sixty-
second countdown sounds around the space: The entrance is about to close. Oh my God, I’ll be locked inside Broadmoor! Come on!
The mechanical claw grabs my vessel. I peek out and spot the Anthropoid. I gesture for him to go before me, but he refuses. The claw places me inside the pool at the count of five. Diving, I level the craft beneath the pool just as the door above me closes. No. Where’s the red-haired guy?
I spin around in my seat until I spot him. Phew. He’d clung to the top of the sub. He slides off now, hovering there in the gloom, before darting out of sight. I gulp as I scan the water. Visibility is reduced, with dark shadows swaying all around. The dread doesn’t have a hope in hell of surfacing here and now, though.
I have my papa with me. And we’re going home.
I exit the projection and speed to the side. I can’t rise without power, which means they can lock on to me if they catch me. I check on Papa again, ensuring he’s as secure as possible, and stare at him. Three months. In just over three months his hair is graying, his face sunken and lined, and his color . . . Oh, it would’ve broken Mama’s heart to see him now! I look away.
He’s here at least. At last, he’s with me.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the sub on and select the house icon that will lead me to the Kabul. I mutter a prayer as I pull back on the joystick and forward on the throttle.
The sub rockets through the current. Though we aren’t in the heart of the battle, hostile vessels and bots, fire, smoke and debris all whoosh by me in every direction. Please, please, please. I hold my nerve, dodging attacks just in time, rolling and swerving to avoid all the firepower around me.
Keep going.
The submersible hurtles up through it all, past the dreadful shadows of the “whales” and the menacing shapes of the “jellyfish” bobbing away in the depths.
Until finally I spot the heartening lights of the Kabul, blinking on the current. Home. My chest warms at the sight.
I must be only meters away from the moon pool when I’m hit.
No. The submersible jerks as I scan to catch the source of the attack.
There are two of them, the rocket-like subs of the prison guards hovering in my way.
“Ari, I’m hit!” I shout into my Bracelet. “I’m right here—I can see the Kabul!”
The craft jerks erratically. Just when I’ve somewhat stabilized it, both subs fire on me.
I duck and dive, and the firepower keeps coming. I roll to avoid a laser beam, when a bright light flashes. A dull thud rocks my craft and it shudders. The alarm sounds. No. I shiver. The submersible’s taken a serious hit this time. The propellers slow down. I slide the throttle forward, but the vessel won’t speed up and I’m moving at seahorse speed.
Don’t stall. . . . Oh God, please don’t stall.
The sub lurches. No, no, no. After all that, everything’s slipping away from me. “Hang in there, Papa.” Cold nausea rises inside. I’m vaguely aware of activity around the Kabul’s moon pool, behind the prison guards.
One of the prison’s subs moves toward me. We’ll never survive another hit. As the craft creeps closer and I watch, it jerks, its nose rising and dipping erratically. Something comes into view behind it, but when I peer closer it’s gone. What’s going on? The sub lurches again, and once more I sense something flash by, but it’s too fast to register. A pole of some kind has been rammed into the rocket-shaped craft’s propeller, and finally the sub stalls, before spinning away.
The second craft is damaged in the same manner and suddenly the way ahead is clear. The shape whizzes by the front of my vessel now and slows down just enough for me to realize it’s an Anthropoid. It’s Ari.
We are fast, Leyla, he’d said. I blink. Wow.
With the continued protection from several of Bia’s vess
els, Ari darts beneath my stalling craft and nudges the submersible the short way to the moon pool, and then upward.
I’m through the pool, and finally up and in the chamber. Decompressing feels like an eternity, but at last we’re done. I exit the sub, legs trembling, to find Ari briskly toweling himself dry. Our eyes meet and the hesitancy in his eases, his posture relaxing. And then we snap into action.
“Oscar!” I call out. “Close the moon pool door. Now. Secure the submarine and head west at full speed. We don’t stop for anyone!”
I rush to the passenger door of the submersible and gently edge Papa toward me.
Ari hurries over. His solid arms sweep into the craft and I step aside. As he helps Papa out, I initiate a full diagnostics program on the submersible; hopefully any damage to the vessel can be repaired.
Ari stops, catching his breath when he looks at Papa, alarm crossing his face. His shoulders rise and fall and his eyes flash with rage as he scoops him up.
We head for the second guest room I’ve prepared. I message Charlie and tell him I want Bia to let Gramps know we have Papa. She’ll find a way to do it without anyone else listening in. I know Grandpa will tell the twins.
The Kabul turns and speeds away from the chaos.
The Navigator appears, tilting his head as I make Papa comfortable on the bed. “Might I welcome the gentleman Hashem on board the Kabul, my dear lady?”
Warmth radiates through me at his words. Tears prickle my eyes. I could hug him to bits. “You may, Oscar.”
The corners of my mouth dare a slight lift.
In the evening, I wipe Papa’s brow to help cool him down. Without the layers of filth, he looks more like himself. It took Ari and me over an hour to wash and change him, his skeletal state demanding the gentlest handling.
The Medi-bot has diagnosed him as severely malnourished and dehydrated. He also has several viral and bacterial infections, and a high fever. But he’ll be all right.
