The Flooded Earth Read online

  The furniture was smashed. All the stock Spinner had kept to sell or barter was damaged or gone. For a few long moments, all Will could do was stare at the mess, struggling to take in the scale of this loss.

  What happened here? he wondered. Why would someone hate Spinner so much they’d want to tear the place apart?

  He walked to the door that separated the shop from the apartment at the back and discovered it had been kicked in.

  Of course, they had been here, too. The apartment consisted of one comfortable room with a sofa and chairs at one end, a table and a little kitchen at the other, with three little bedrooms up a steep flight of stairs. The laundry and bathroom were out the back. The tall bookshelf that usually held Spinner’s collection of books was also on the floor. Most of the books were gone, apart from a couple of childhood favorites that lay splayed about, their covers torn. Holes had been punched in the plasterboard walls, as if whoever had been here was looking for secret hiding places. Cupboards had been broken open and kitchen canisters emptied out. The floor was a mess of rice, flour, and sugar, crisscrossed with footprints.

  Will hurried upstairs and checked the bedrooms. His own room was first: the cupboards hung open, his things littered the floor, and his mattress had been pulled off the bed and slashed open. Nothing in there but lumps, he thought defiantly. He glanced into Annalie’s room next. Destruction there, too, although there had been less to tear down; she’d taken her favorite things away to school.

  Then he went into Spinner’s room.

  It, too, had a slashed mattress, and the cupboard doors all hung open. But the thing he noticed immediately was that Spinner’s clothes were gone. Not all of them—a few never-worn oddments still hung there. But his regular clothes had been taken.

  This was the first hopeful sign. If Spinner’s clothes were gone, perhaps he’d got away too.

  Will walked slowly back downstairs, trying to make sense of all this. Perhaps the people who’d done this weren’t being destructive for the hell of it. Maybe they were looking for something. But what?

  He went into the kitchen, wondering if there was anything left to eat, and a loud squawk almost made him jump out of his skin. He looked up and saw Graham, Spinner’s parrot, perched outside the window, flapping and tapping frantically to be let in.

  He opened the window and Graham came rocketing in. He landed on Will’s shoulder, rubbed his beak against Will’s face and squawked deafeningly.

  “Graham,” Will said, “where’s Spinner?”

  According to family legend, Spinner had acquired Graham in the immediate aftermath of the Flood, when Spinner was still a young man. Graham had been part of a pre-Flood experiment that put chips into parrots’ brains in an attempt to boost communication between humans and animals. Of course, many parrots could talk, even without chips in their brains; but Graham’s language skills were exceptional.

  “Spinner gone!” Graham said.

  “I know that, but where?” In his excitement, Graham was digging his claws into Will’s shoulder. “Ow, Graham, you’re hurting me. Why didn’t he take you with him?”

  “Graham got lost.”

  “Lost? What happened?”

  “Cars come. Big black cars.”

  “I heard the cars. Do you know who was driving them? Were they in uniform? Were they Admiralty?”

  “Uniform,” Graham agreed, bobbing up and down. “Spinner and Graham ran to the Eddy.”

  “To the boat?”

  “Boat, yes, but men were there.”

  “So you couldn’t get to the boat?”

  “Men already on the boat.”

  “So then what did you do?”

  “Spinner and Graham go to noisy house.”

  “What kind of noisy house?”

  Graham ruffled up his feathers, looking sulky. “Noisy. There was a cat.”

  “What happened, Graham?”

  “There was a cat. It tried to eat Graham.” Agitated, Graham flew up into the air and whirled in circles before settling down on a kitchen shelf, higher up the wall. “Graham got lost. Spinner got lost.”

  “But do you know where he was going? Did he tell you? Who did he go to see at the noisy house?”

  Graham swung his head from side to side, making a distressed noise. “Graham want biscuit.”

  “You can’t have a biscuit! I need to find Spinner, you stupid bird!”

  Graham squawked angrily at him.

  “All right, fine.” Will stumped to the cupboard and got Graham a biscuit. “Now can you tell me anything else about what happened?”

  But Graham had nothing more to add.

  A visitor

  “Hurry up girls! The sports fields are waiting!”

  The first-year girls were racing to get out of their school uniforms and into their sports uniforms. This was quite a process, as the uniform had many pieces to it: tie, blazer, shirt, skirt, lace-up boots, and when you took it all off you weren’t allowed to just hang it on a peg or stuff it in a locker until you were ready to put it all back on again. Everything had to be hung or folded according to regulations, or you were in big trouble.

  “Last five girls out of the change rooms will do an extra lap of the oval!” the sports teacher boomed.

  “Really, though, is that an efficient use of everyone’s time?” Annalie murmured to her friend Essie as she rolled her socks into the regulation donut shape. “Making the people who got ready first stand around even longer while they wait for the slow ones to do an extra lap of the oval?”

  “They pretend they care about efficiency,” Essie agreed, “but really they just like to torture us. Especially the unsporty ones.”

  “You there! Rehang that blazer! Call those shoes properly aligned? Do something about that hair! What?” This last demand was directed at an older student who had appeared with a message. The sports teacher frowned. “Annalie? Where are you? You’re wanted at the office. You’ve got a visitor.”

  Essie raised her eyebrows at Annalie excitedly. “Who do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know,” Annalie said. She couldn’t think of anyone who’d come to see her except Spinner. “Maybe it’s my dad.”

  “What are you waiting for?” snapped the sports teacher. “Office!”

  Annalie slammed her locker shut and headed for the door, aware of the buzz of curiosity around her—The weird girl had a visitor? How did that get her out of sport?

  The sports teacher was already shouting again. “Now! The rest of you have exactly one minute to be changed and ready! I’m counting!”

  Could it really be Spinner, come to surprise her? A smile began to spread across Annalie’s face as she hurried toward the front office. She hadn’t seen him since the beginning of term—not face to face, anyway—and she missed him desperately.

  At the front office they directed her to a small meeting room. She hurried to the door, fully expecting to see Spinner, her heart beating fast with pleasurable excitement, so when she walked in and saw another man entirely, her first thought was that she had walked into the wrong office.

  “Annalie,” the man said, “it’s good to meet you at last.”

  He was tall and solid, with black hair above a high forehead and a long, lined, hollow face; big shouldered and barrel chested; no longer young; wearing a dark T-shirt and pants with a leather jacket. He looked at her with eyes that were set deep into dark sockets, but which had a lively brightness as they studied her. There was something disturbing about the intensity of his gaze.

  He came toward her, holding out his hand. After a moment she realized she was supposed to shake it. “I’m Avery Beckett,” he said. He had a very firm grip.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Beckett,” Annalie said.

  Beckett gestured to a pair of slightly uncomfortable-looking armchairs placed at a conversational angle, and they both sat. />
  “How are you settling in?” he asked.

  “Okay, I guess,” she said.

  “This must be quite a change of pace for you. Has it been a difficult adjustment?”

  She realized he knew something about her circumstances, and at once she found herself going on the defensive. “Not at all,” Annalie said, rather stiffly. “I’m doing very well here.”

  Beckett seemed to notice her discomfort, and smiled, a wolfish smile that showed his canines. It wasn’t entirely reassuring. “You must be wondering why I’ve come to see you. I’m a friend of your father’s.”

  Annalie was surprised.

  “We haven’t seen each other for a long time. Since before you were born, in fact.” He paused, studying her face. “You look like him. But you have your mother’s coloring.”

  “Did you know her?” Annalie had never known her mother, who died when she was a baby. Spinner had no pictures of her, and became reserved and unhappy whenever she was mentioned. When Annalie was little she’d been desperate to know more about her mother, but as she grew up she’d learned to keep her curiosity to herself.

  “I knew her very well,” said Beckett. “She was very intelligent. Truly a wonderful mind. And a beautiful girl, too.”

  Annalie felt as if he was trying to flatter her, and it made her uncomfortable.

  “Actually, I was the one who introduced them. Your father and I were working together—the building we worked in is just down the hill from here. I brought your mother in to join our team, and that’s how they met.”

  Annalie frowned. “That can’t be right,” she said. “My father never worked here.”

  “He certainly did,” Beckett said, “for many years.”

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

  Beckett’s lips pulled back to reveal his teeth again. The effect of it really was disconcerting. “Your father’s name is Ned Wallace, but he answers to Neddy or Spinner. Loves boats and fixing things. Has a big scar on his leg where he ripped it open trying to get inside a shipping container he found at sea and nearly drowned. Has a talking parrot called Graham.” Beckett smiled. “I remember when he got Graham. I warned him those birds can live a really long time.”

  “Sixty years in captivity,” Annalie said. She studied Beckett, curious and unsettled. How could this man have known her father for so long, and yet she’d never met him? “I’m sorry, Dad never mentioned you.”

  “No,” Beckett drawled. “I don’t suppose he did.” He paused. “The sad fact is, your father and I were good friends and colleagues once. But then he stole something from me, something very valuable. And I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since.”

  Annalie felt a jolt run through her, as if she’d been jabbed with a cattle prod. “Spinner stole something?”

  “I know—at first I didn’t believe it either. But there’s no doubt it was him.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Annalie said. “He’s not that kind of person.”

  Beckett looked at her appraisingly. “You’re very loyal, and that’s an excellent quality. But you’ll find as you get older that people have many different sides to them. Secret selves. Secret histories. Things they’ve done that they might wish they hadn’t done, but can’t undo.”

  Annalie looked at him with hostility, but said nothing.

  “The thing is, Annalie, the item your father stole is very important, and we really need to get it back.”

  “Who’s we?”

  Beckett bared his teeth again, in what was clearly meant to be a reassuring smile. He reached into his pocket, took out a business card, and gave it to her. It had an Admiralty crest on it, and identified him as working for the Department of Scientific Inquiry & Special Projects.

  “Your father stole top-secret research from my department,” Beckett said, “and we’re very anxious to get it back.”

  “Why are you asking me?” Annalie said.

  “Your father’s been living off the grid for some time now. But you know that, of course. Why else would you have been living where you did? He only popped back into view this year—when you came here.” Beckett paused, letting that sink in for a moment. “Ever since Ned went missing I’ve been hoping I could track him down before my superiors did. We were close once. If I could just find him and talk to him myself, I might be able to convince him to return the item voluntarily. Then we might be able to do some sort of deal to reduce the severity of his sentence.”

  “What do you mean?” Annalie asked, a chilly feeling making her scalp tighten.

  “He’s stolen top-secret research from the Admiralty. That’s treason. If he’s found guilty, they’re never going to let him out.”

  Annalie stared at Beckett, horrified.

  “Earlier this week, they finally managed to work out where you’ve been living. They sent a team round to arrest your dad, but he wasn’t there.”

  “Where was he?” Annalie asked.

  “I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,” Beckett said.

  The revelations had been coming so rapidly that it took a moment for Annalie to realize that Spinner was actually missing. Fear and abandonment tingled inside her. Where had Spinner gone? And what about Will?

  The big man was watching her intently, his upper lip lifting to show those teeth, as if subconsciously he wanted to eat her. “Spinner needs our help, Annalie. Will you help me?”

  A thought came to her, very clearly: I don’t trust this man.

  Her mind started working quickly. “Where did they look for him?” she asked.

  “At the workshop, and on the boat,” Beckett said. “There was nobody there.”

  Damn, Annalie thought. So he knows about the boat. “That’s very strange,” she said.

  “The good news is, there’s still time for him to turn himself in. He can still do a deal. If I help him tell his story, I’m sure there are mitigating circumstances. Maybe he can even avoid jail time. But only if I can find him before they do.” Beckett paused, trying to read her. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

  “Well...” Annalie began, thinking, Do I say nothing? Make something up? The truth was, she didn’t know where Spinner was hiding. But she also had an urge to put this man off the scent. If she could send him off on a wild-goose chase, perhaps it would buy Spinner some time—wherever he was. She gave Beckett a good-girl smile. “You know Spinner. He’s pretty secretive.”

  “Does he have any old friends? Someone he could rely on in a tight spot?”

  “If I tell you, do you promise he won’t go to jail?”

  “I can’t promise that,” Beckett said. “What he did was very serious. But I promise I’ll do absolutely everything in my power to help him cut a deal and get him back to his family as soon as possible.”

  “There is someone he might have gone to,” Annalie said, improvising. “But he’s hard to find.”

  Beckett’s face brightened, and he flicked on his shell. “Go on,” he said.

  “Spinner had an old friend, an old smuggler friend,” Annalie said, making her voice sound reluctant. “He used to work out of the Eddy, but then things got too hot for him and he had to get out.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Lagoon. Like the body of water.”

  “What was his real name?”

  “I don’t know. Actually, I think his wife used to call him something else. Frid?”

  “Fred?”

  “No, Frid.”

  Annalie watched Beckett’s fingers flying over the virtual keyboard.

  “They moved to Grunland.”

  “Grunland? Are you sure?”

  Grunland was a small island nation far to the east that had been marginal even before everything went wrong. Its low-lying coastline had seen it ravaged by the Flood, and its population had shrunk from small to minuscule
.

  “We went there once. Horrible trip. Such rough seas, I was sick as a dog.”

  “Do you remember where in Grunland?”

  “I forget what it was called,” Annalie said regretfully. “But I remember it was on a super dangerous strait with absolutely massive tides. There were all these little islands and a huge body of water passing through a little tiny gap. They had a house there, all by itself. It had a blue door.”

  Beckett’s fingers added all these details.

  “And when was this?”

  “Two years ago? Three years ago? Wait, I was ten—or was I nine? I couldn’t have been eight. Or maybe...I’m not sure. It was a couple of years ago.”

  “And do you know if they’re still in contact?”

  Annalie shrugged. “I guess they probably are, but I don’t know.”

  “Any other details you can think of?”

  “His wife’s name was Sun,” Annalie said. “Oh, and Lagoon had a great big tattoo of a sea monster. It went right around his arm and all the way down his back. It was amazing.”

  Beckett added these details to his list. “Thank you, Annalie,” he said. “You’ve been very helpful. Now, if you think of anything else, let me know, any time, day or night. You’ve got my details.”

  Annalie fingered the card he’d given her.

  Beckett flicked off his shell and stood. Annalie stood too. The man towered over her.

  “You won’t let anything bad happen to him, will you?” Annalie said, looking up at him pleadingly.

  “I’ll do my best,” Beckett said, and bared his teeth at her one last time.

  Triumph

  From the moment she’d arrived at Triumph College, Annalie had been acutely aware that she did not fit in.