About the Book
Isabella and her friends have escaped the floodwaters of Grimsdon for the modern world of New City. But will their lives be as wonderful as they’re led to believe?
Uncertainty and fear have brought dark times. Refugees fleeing the world’s rising waters have been imprisoned in a miserable camp.
From freakish, wild weather to the Garrison’s tough restrictions, the kids face new threats at every turn. Unlike the refugees, they’re heralded as heroes, but what does the mysterious Major General really want from them? Isabella is determined to learn the city’s secrets – but there are watching eyes everywhere …
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: A Late-Night Visitor
Chapter Two: An Uneasy Farewell
Chapter Three: An Unexpected Welcome
Chapter Four: A Bad Omen
Chapter Five: A Whispered Warning
Chapter Six: Newly Made Heroes
Chapter Seven: New City
Chapter Eight: A Surprising Encounter
Chapter Nine: Meeting a Mooch
Chapter Ten: The Major General
Chapter Eleven: A Terrible Cry
Chapter Twelve: A Late-Night Rendezvous
Chapter Thirteen: Jeremiah’s House
Chapter Fourteen: Citizen Combat
Chapter Fifteen: Some Startling News
Chapter Sixteen: Learning to Fly
Chapter Seventeen: A Sneaky Visit
Chapter Eighteen: The Grand Tour
Chapter Nineteen: A Frantic Search
Chapter Twenty: A Dangerous Idea
Chapter Twenty-One: A Narrow Escape
Chapter Twenty-Two: A Devastating Discovery
Chapter Twenty-Three: An Unusual Outburst
Chapter Twenty-Four: A Long-Awaited Reunion
Chapter Twenty-Five: A Sad Farewell
Chapter Twenty-Six: A Plan Unfolds
Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Panicked Interruption
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Traitors in Our Midst
Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Dark Secret
Chapter Thirty: A Desperate Plea
Chapter Thirty-One: A Chilling Victory Speech
Chapter Thirty-Two: An Uneasy Feeling
Chapter Thirty-Three: A Cruel March
Chapter Thirty-Four: The End of the Line
Chapter Thirty-Five: Coming Home
About the Author
Ad for Grimsdon
Copyright Notice
Loved the book?
For Edyn, always and ever
Dear Diary,
It’s our last day in Grimsdon. After three years of living in a flooded city, surviving storms, sneaker waves and bounty hunters, we’re finally leaving.
I remember the day it happened – Isabella and I were on a school excursion at the Natural History Museum. We were on the rooftop identifying famous landmarks when I noticed water rushing over the flood barriers. The river burst its banks and streets filled with water. Within hours the army moved in. Most people were rescued, but we were left behind.
And we couldn’t find our parents.
Isabella and I moved into a building she’d always admired called the Palace, which is grand and wonderful. I wasn’t sure if we could survive with no electricity, food or water, but with a bit of scrounging for parts and scientific know-how, we did it. We created power using the energy from the waves and sun, and built a greenhouse on the roof where we grew fresh fruit and vegies. Soon after that we found the twins, Bea and Raffy, and then Fly, who was sitting cold and alone on a roof with just a suitcase. Her parents had told her to stay there until they returned, but they never made it back. The suitcase had a label of a Dragonfly aeroplane on it. She never said a word. So we called her Fly – we still do.
And of course there’s Jeremiah. He and other scientists tried to warn the government about the floods, but they wouldn’t listen. He didn’t think he deserved to be rescued, so he moved into the State Library with a toy bear as his best friend. That’s where Isabella found him. He tried to attack her with a fish, but it’s lucky he wasn’t as good at fighting as Isabella because that was the beginning of our friendship.
Then there was Herman, a sea monster who could have eaten me in one gulp. I never thought I’d say this but we’re going to miss him. Fly especially. She has this way of communicating with him like their minds understand each other.
I guess I better mention Xavier and his flying machine. I wasn’t happy when we first met, partly because he’d just broken into our house, but he also had a big mouth and an even bigger opinion of himself. I had this strong feeling that we shouldn’t trust him. He even snuck into my room and read this diary! I was so angry! But he turned out not to be so bad. He taught me judo and even helped us finally sort out Sneddon and his thugs.
And it was Xavier who used his flying machine to get help, which is why we’re leaving now.
No more Velocrafts to sail or Submariners to venture underwater or Aerotropes to take to the skies. I don’t know what we’re going to find, but as long as we stay together we’ll be okay.
At least that’s what I tell myself to calm my nerves when I think about leaving.
So Diary, this is my last entry from Grimsdon. I’m scared and excited, but most of all I want to do everything I can to take care of the others.
And to always be by Isabella’s side.
Wish me luck.
Griffin
CHAPTER ONE
A Late-Night Visitor
The young boy crept through the dark city streets. It was late and no one was around – the curfew forbids it.
But he never let that stop him.
He’d heard stories about others who’d been caught after curfew and how they’d simply vanished. They could have been just stories, but in New City there was a good chance they were true.
But it wasn’t going to happen to him. Being caught would mean having everything he knew taken from him. And everyone – Latif, Nadia, Samira. He felt a choking knot in his throat every time he thought of losing any of them.
Dressed in black with a beanie pulled low, he skirted around the glow of a lamppost and disappeared into the shadows of a lane. He stepped lightly and was good at knowing the exact moment to move. Even if he was seen, they’d think he was an illusion. Something playing with their minds. He scanned the road and into backyards, listening for the smallest sound. His small, wiry frame slid easily along the fences, blending into the darkness, looking for his first offering of the night.
Very soon, he found it.
He stopped at a fine two-storey house with lights blazing. Through the curtains he saw blurred figures. There was music and laughter. Even singing. If he did this right, they’d never even know he’d been.
He scampered over the fence and across the yard to the back door, slipping a piece of wire into the lock. He moved it carefully, feeling for each groove, and after only a few seconds he heard a faint click.
He smiled. This was his fastest time yet.
Inside the noise of the party was louder and would serve as a good cover while he worked. The pantry was well stocked. He took off a small backpack and began filling it. Tins of beans, jars of jam, a bottle of tomato sauce – the most important of all. They called it ‘Miracle Sauce’ because it made Cook’s food almost edible.
And that was a miracle.
He didn’t take too much. You couldn’t be greedy. If you were, people noticed and they’d start to talk. They’d get worked up and tell the Garrison.
And someone would pay – guilty or not. The Garrison were firm defenders of the city and masters at keeping filthy Moochers like him in their place.
A Mooch. That�
��s how he was known. And this city did not take kindly to Moochers.
He searched the other cupboards until he found a first-aid kit. He took a few bandaids, some antiseptic wipes and cough mixture.
A booming laugh exploded in the corridor.
Someone was coming.
He ducked into the cupboard beneath the sink, hugging the pack to his chest. He was small enough to fit snugly inside against buckets and bottles of cleaning fluid.
The owner of the laugh whistled as he opened the fridge. Bottles clinked and fizzed as they were opened. He turned on the taps.
The man was only centimetres away. The sound of water trickling into the sink above the boy made him want to go to the toilet. He squeezed his knees together, closed his eyes and tried to think about something else.
Deserts, hot sun, football.
The tap was turned off, bottles were gathered and the whistling faded down the hallway.
The boy waited a few seconds in case the man changed his mind and came back. That sometimes happened. When people owned a lot, they seemed to forget what they had.
He opened the door a fraction, scoured the kitchen and manoeuvred his legs out. He slipped on his pack and headed for the door.
The music grew suddenly louder and he heard peals of laughter and footsteps of the guests dancing. The boy knew he should leave, but he also knew that tune. His parents used to dance to it at home.
He edged down the dark hall, and up the stairs, towards the party. When he reached the landing, he inched his head around the corner. A woman in a bright floral dress was twirled by a man in a Hawaiian shirt. Two teenage girls giggled as they spun each other around. An older man and woman looked on, smiling and clapping.
Another man with ruddy cheeks and a well-fed belly scooped up a young child and threw him in the air. The toddler squealed in delight before he was caught and smothered in a bear hug.
That’s when the boy felt it, in the very centre of his stomach.
His legs trembled; his skin prickled all over with a cold shiver. He worried he might be sick. If he did, he’d definitely be caught.
He turned and almost lost his footing. He clung to the railing and just managed to make each step to the hall. He reached the back door and closed it behind him with barely a sound.
And he ran.
He could hardly see through a muddle of tears. He skimmed along the back fences to the walls of a nearby church before slipping into an alley.
He leant against the wall, doubled over and let out a small groan. He pleaded with his stomach, Please don’t throw up.
That’s when he heard it.
Clink, clink, clink.
The unmistakable sound of the probionic legs of the soldiers from the Central Garrison, along with their gravelly voices.
He pressed himself into the wall. He could feel the sauce bottle dig into his back. He didn’t dare move. Not an inch.
The clinking became louder. He stared in the direction of their voices. The searchlights from their helmets cut through the air like swords, slashing everything in their path.
The boy tried to steady his breathing. If luck was on his side, they’d offer a fleeting glance and continue on.
Tonight, he wouldn’t be so lucky. The soldiers were more curious than he’d hoped.
He narrowly avoided their searchlights as he ducked between piles of rubbish bags and bins. The alley lit up and echoed with their steps.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The boy crouched further into the garbage, hiding behind rotten food scraps and waste. He stayed deathly still, barely breathing.
The soldiers drew closer, the beams of light from their helmets skimming over the rubbish. He could almost feel the heat searing into him, as if they were shafts of fire.
Just stay still, he reminded himself.
Eventually the footsteps moved away. His body sagged with relief.
He was stupid to let the scene in the house upset him. There were kids all over New City being hugged by their dads. He’d had years to get used to that, but tonight it put him off guard and almost made him a target.
He’d lost everything once; he couldn’t let it happen again.
As he was about to move, he felt a light scratching on his cheek. He slowly backed away and squinted into the darkness. He could just make out a rat that was sniffing through the rubbish.
He’d seen enough rats not to worry about this one and was happy to leave him to whatever delicacies he found.
‘Bon appetit,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all yours.’
With the soldiers gone, the boy slowly lifted himself out of the garbage and began to tiptoe away. But that’s when the rat got greedy and tried to get inside a bin, knocking the lid to the ground.
The boy froze. He felt his heart stop and then jolt back to life in one great thump.
He had to think. And fast.
The crash of the lid was quickly followed by the clicking of probionic legs. The soldiers raced back into the alley, searchlights flaring. They kicked bins and threw bags aside in a frenzy. Rubbish and rotten food flew everywhere.
The boy saw the batons hanging from their belts – the ones he’d heard burnt like fire as they shot an electric charge into your skin.
The soldiers suddenly stopped.
One of them whispered. ‘He’s over there.’
The slow click of the probionics on stone sounded like the ticking of a clock, cruelly counting down the last moments of his freedom. The boy shut his eyes and tensed his body to help withstand the blows.
The two batons came down, striking with direct hits. The air sizzled with sparks and filled with the smell of burnt fur.
One of the soldiers picked the rat up by its tail. It swung in the beam of light from his helmet. ‘That’ll be the end of his scavenging days.’ He dropped it with a thud and the two walked away to the fading click, click, clicking.
The young boy sighed and let himself enjoy a brief smile. He’d outwitted them again.
Just.
His fingers and toes ached from clinging to the small cavities in the wall. He was about eight metres off the ground and, luckily for him, the soldiers hadn’t bothered looking up.
The Garrison’s weapons and high-tech equipment were no match for ingenuity and skill. Even so, he’d had enough close calls for one night and it was time to go home.
He carefully searched for gaps in the wall, jumped the last few metres to the ground and hurried into the night.
CHAPTER TWO
An Uneasy Farewell
Isabella took one final look around the Palace, knowing she would never see it again. The rugs, lounges and toys they’d scavenged over the years to make it feel like home. The dining table with its angel-wing chairs, and the tall windows of rippling glass that gave them a view of the harbour.
But there’d also been collapsing buildings, kidnappings and many times when more than one of them had almost disappeared beneath the floodwaters.
They were lucky to still be alive.
Isabella felt a painful stab in her stomach whenever she thought about what could have happened. If one of them had drowned or been lost or …
‘Are you ready?’ Griffin said, noticing her flinch. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. The last of the bags are packed and we’re ready to go.’
Isabella wiped her eyes against the sleeve of her red coat. ‘It’s harder to say goodbye than I thought.’
‘That’s only natural. We’re leaving our very own Palace, with its greenhouse and library and –’
‘Sneaker waves and untrustworthy adults,’
Isabella reminded him. Griffin smiled. ‘Okay, some things I won’t miss.’
‘I’m worried about what’s out there, Griffin.
We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?’
‘It’s getting too dangerous to stay.’
She suddenly seemed panicked. ‘Promise me something?’
‘Of course.’ Griffin nodded. ‘Anything.’
; ‘No matter what happens, we’ll stick together.’
‘We will. I promise.’
Griffin knew he had no right to make such a promise. He had no idea what the world beyond Grimsdon was like, but he would have said anything to wipe away the fear on Isabella’s face.
‘We made a new home once and we’ll do it again.’ He took her hand. ‘Come on, the others are waiting.’
The army helicopter sat on the rooftop like an oversized metal insect. It was nestled among giant statues of a rearing horse and a water dragon with raised fins and a long, curling tail.
Jeremiah was already buckled into the back, hugging a small bear. He’d scrubbed up for their departure so that his bauble hat, plaits and fluffy beard were replaced by a suit, polished shoes and neatly cut hair.
In the front seat of the chopper, Raffy wore his Superman cape and pushed his long hair out of his eyes as he pretended to fly. Bea stood beside him, looking like a warrior princess with her tiara nestled on top of her curly red hair, long purple gown and a wooden sword hanging from her belt. No one was going to hurt her twin brother while she was around.
A pilot in uniform and dark glasses was carrying out an inspection of the helicopter as an older boy followed his every step, desperately trying to convince him of something.
Isabella frowned. ‘What’s Xavier up to?’
‘He wants to fly.’ Griffin sniffed. ‘In typical Xavier style, he thinks he can do anything.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Isabella strode in her long black boots towards the pilot. ‘I’m Isabella and this is Xavier, who will be sitting in the back with the rest of us.’
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