DustRoad Page 2

  “Maybe it’s a construction crew,” he mused. “Maybe Miss Ella’s finally found someone mad enough to try and patch it up.”

  “Maybe,” Kara said doubtfully. “But I don’t see their boat. And what’s that noise?”

  Joe held his breath and listened. Beneath the lap of the waves he could hear a steady drone, growing in volume. “Sounds like a motor. A jetski or something.”

  “There!” Kara said, grabbing his arm. “Look!”

  Facing them was a wide expanse of open water with just a few scattered buildings poking through. This had once been the path of the River Thames, Joe knew, though it had been paved over even before the Wall went up. Now along the ancient watercourse something was moving – not a boat or a jetski but a sort of bulge below the surface, travelling under its own power. It was flanked by two similar shapes, something trailing behind them in the water.

  “I think Nate told me about these,” Joe recalled. “The Mariners call them DPVs, diver propulsion vehicles. It’s a sort of propeller that you hang on to and it pulls you through the water.”

  “Perfect if you don’t want to be seen,” Kara pointed out.

  “You think they’re looters?” Joe asked. “Maybe we should go back and tell someone.”

  “Looters with Mariner tech?” Kara wondered dubiously. “And they look like they know exactly where they’re going.”

  Joe traced the vehicles’ path, looking east along the Thames. “London Bridge is that way,” he said. “And the Bank of England, but there’s no money left in it.” Since he’d started salvaging inside the Wall he’d become fascinated by the old city; even the names seemed to have a strange kind of magic. “And there’s St Paul’s, the Tower of London, the Monument, but it’s all been picked c—”

  “Wait, go back,” Kara said. “Did you say the Tower? Isn’t that where they’ve been keeping—”

  “John Cortez,” Joe finished, looking at her in horror. The Mariner captain had masterminded the attack on London in which thousands had died; Kara and Joe had very nearly been among them. His imprisonment in the Tower had been a symbolic act – he had all but destroyed this great city, now he languished in its most infamous jail.

  “Nate always said Cortez had friends,” Kara said. “A whole network of supporters, right across the globe. What if they’ve come to bust him out?”

  Joe reached for the skiff’s outboard motor. “We have to go back. We have to tell someone and—”

  “And risk them getting away?” Kara asked. “Not on your life. Start her up, quiet as you can.”

  Joe thought about protesting but he knew it was pointless. Once Kara got an idea in her head she’d see it through, whatever the consequences. He tugged the starter cable and the engine rattled, kicking out wisps of grey smoke.

  “What if they’ve got guns?” he asked, steering along the stone face of the gallery.

  “We’ll just follow them for now,” Kara said. “See what they’re up to, then decide what to do.”

  Refuse stacked against the bow as they moved into the sunlight, weaving through the line of buildings that would once have marked the south bank of the river. But as they passed over the submerged span of London Bridge and scanned the open water beyond, Joe realised that the divers had vanished.

  Kara gestured and he cut the engine. “Where did they go?” she whispered. “D’you think they saw us?”

  “I don’t know,” Joe said. “But look, there’s the Tower up ahead.”

  The medieval prison rose from the water, a sturdy square of grey stone ringed with crenellated battlements. Its corner turrets were topped with pale domes, tattered flags fluttering in the breeze. The outer wall was almost entirely submerged, just the top few feet rising from the waves.

  “What if you’re wrong?” Joe asked. “What if they’re just ordinary looters? They might not be going there at all.”

  “Then we’ll tell the guards and they can report it,” Kara said. “But either way we—”

  A loud crack sounded and something struck the boat, splinters flying from the gunwale. Kara dropped, pulling Joe down as a second bullet punched right through the hull, embedding itself in the starboard side. Water began to gulp through the hole.

  “They shot at us!” Joe said. “I told you they would.”

  “Clever you,” Kara muttered as they peered over the side of the skiff.

  The divers were some distance away, clinging to the upper branches of a leafless, sunken tree. The tallest of the three held a rifle and was loading more bullets into the chamber. One of the others gestured but the tall one ignored them, taking aim. Joe and Kara ducked as the shot passed inches overhead, thudding into a nearby building.

  Then they heard motors whine as the divers dropped back into the water, activating their propellers and curving towards the Tower. Kara yanked the starter cable and the engine rumbled as she steered in pursuit.

  “You’re crazy,” Joe protested. “Those shots were meant to scare us off!”

  “They didn’t work,” Kara said through gritted teeth.

  “But we’re sinking.” The water was past Joe’s ankles and still pouring in. “We’ll never make it.”

  “So we’ll go as far as we can then swim,” Kara said. “But I won’t let them free him. I just won’t.”

  Water splashed over the prow as the skiff picked up speed and Joe scanned the passing refuse for something to bail out with. He grabbed a plastic bowl, but it had so many holes in it that it barely made a difference.

  “Look,” Kara said, pointing. The three figures were climbing on to the Tower’s curtain wall, wearing blue-black wetsuits with hoods and built-in breath masks. Even from this distance Joe could see they were Mariner-made. “We’re coming after you,” Kara growled. “Just you w—”

  The skiff tipped suddenly, water gushing over the port side. Joe snatched for his pack as the boat flipped, but he was too late to save the bronze sculptures. They sank rapidly into the black depths.

  “So much for getting paid,” he grumbled and Kara smiled sadly, treading water.

  “I’m sorry, Joe. But this is more important.”

  They swam in the direction of the Tower, through a bobbing archipelago of metal cans and plastic containers. At last they reached the battlements and Joe pulled himself up, stopping to catch his breath. But Kara didn’t pause, hurrying along a stone walkway towards a small, steel-roofed guard tower. Joe picked himself up and followed.

  The door stood open and Kara gestured for him to stay back, peering inside. Then she beckoned to him. The guardroom was low and dark, the walls made of rough, ancient granite. But it was empty, a door on the far side standing wide.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked. “Shouldn’t there be someone on duty?”

  “Maybe the Mariners paid them off,” Joe whispered. “Or, you know, killed them.”

  They followed another short walkway, pushing through an arched wooden door into the main Tower. For a brief moment Joe thought the high-ceilinged room was crowded with people, all standing in silence. Then he saw that they were only dummies, plastic figures sealed in glass cases, wearing plush robes and frilly dresses and suits of steel armour. Another casket was stacked with swords and pikes and battleaxes, and Kara eyed them keenly as they passed. But to Joe’s relief she left them alone, exiting the room into a long stone corridor.

  Now they could hear something up ahead – a sustained hiss, like escaping steam. Kara slowed and Joe huddled behind her, creeping towards an opening at the end of the hall. Light danced on the walls and suddenly he recognised the sound for what it was: the whine of a cutting torch.

  They peered into a small, enclosed antechamber. The torch was being operated by two of the wetsuited Mariners, crouching by a steel door and attempting to shear through the padlock. The third stood a little way back, the cowl of his wetsuit pulled back to reveal a shaved head and a broad, tattooed neck.

  “I told you,” Kara whispered to Joe, her words almost drowned by the noise of the torc
h. “They’re trying to free Cortez. We have to stop them.”

  “Wait,” Joe said. “That guy’s twice your size – you can’t—”

  But Kara was already moving, keeping low as she ducked into the room. She crossed the floor in two bounds, grabbing the standing Mariner around the waist and using her weight to drag him off his feet. He landed hard and Kara straddled him, shoving him flat on his back before he could cry out. His rifle skittered away and Joe ran to grab it, hugging it to his chest. The other Mariners hadn’t even glanced back – the torch was too loud and they were engrossed in their task.

  Kara pinned the fallen Mariner, taking hold of his arms. But he was a big man, and strong; he broke loose and swung at her, splitting her lip. Kara’s face flushed with anger as she shifted her weight, driving her fist into the man’s stomach. He let out a wheezing cry but Kara hit him again, smashing his cheek, drawing blood. Then she bent double, wrapping both hands around the big man’s throat and squeezing as hard as she could.

  “I won’t let you take him!” she hissed. “Cortez has to pay for what he—”

  “Kara!” a voice cried. “Stop!”

  The noise of the torch had ceased and the other Mariners had turned to see what was happening. One jumped to his feet, tugging back the hood of his wetsuit to reveal a pale face, stricken with horror.

  “Nate!” Kara breathed, letting go of her victim. “What are you…? Why are you…?”

  The Mariner boy held up both hands as he stepped closer. His companion put down the cutting torch and reached to her waist, tugging out a small pistol and training it on Kara.

  “Nate, who are these … children?” she demanded, her eyes flicking to the rifle in Joe’s hands. Quickly he placed it on the floor and stepped away.

  “It’s Kara and Joe,” Nate said. “The ones who… The ones I…” He looked at Kara with pleading eyes. “Just let the big guy go, I promise I can explain.”

  The tattooed Mariner lay prone, red bubbles breaking on his lips. Kara glared at him then she got to her feet, facing Nate. “Go on, then,” she said. “Explain to me why you’re trying to free John Cortez.”

  “We’re not freeing him,” Nate insisted. “It’s not like that. We’re just taking him away.”

  “Away?” Kara asked. “Away where?”

  “To the Neptune first,” Nate said. “Then back to Frisco. He needs to answer for what he’s done.”

  “That’s why he’s in here!” Kara objected. “He’s going to be tried and punished.”

  “But he’s not safe,” Nate insisted. “I mean, he’s not secure. As we’ve literally just proved. My aunt Sedna can explain it better than I can – if you come with us to the Neptune she’ll convince you that—”

  “No!” Kara shouted. “I’m not going anywhere with you, and neither is Cortez.”

  “Friends, please. You mustn’t fight over me.”

  Joe looked up, his heart thumping. The cell door was swinging open, the lock dropping in pieces to the stone floor. John Cortez had grown painfully thin since they last saw him, his ice-blue eyes sunken into his narrow, watchful face. Between his fingers were ragged flaps of skin, the remains of the webbing he’d had surgically attached to his hands.

  “Don’t move,” the closest Mariner said, turning her pistol on Cortez. “Not one step.”

  “But what is all this?” he asked. “I thought you’d come to kill me, but then you started yelling at each other.”

  “They’ve come to take you home,” Kara said spitefully. “To a nice little cell back in Mariner country, where you’ll be warm and cosy and—”

  “It’s not like that,” Nate snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Kara. We’re taking him, it’s been agreed.”

  “Agreed by who?” Kara demanded. “I didn’t agree.”

  “You’re right.” Cortez smiled at her. “I’m perfectly fine where I am.”

  “Shut up!” Nate and Kara snapped simultaneously, then the boy shook his head.

  “Look, there’s two choices,” Nate said. “You can either put up a fight and lose, and watch us take him. Or you can come with us and, I promise, my aunt will tell you exactly what’s going on.”

  “I think he’s right,” Joe put in, bracing himself for Kara’s anger. “I mean, they’ve got guns and we haven’t. But we should go along and find out what it’s all about. Shouldn’t we?”

  Kara seethed silently, grinding her teeth. “Fine,” she said. “But it had better be good.”

  2

  The Prisoner

  The Neptune was moored a mile south of the Wall, in the vast concrete wilderness they called the Badlands. The great ship lay in a shallow harbour between two fallen tower blocks, looking from a distance like just another large, steel-sided tanker. But Kara knew there was much more to it – the Neptune was an Ark, a floating town, home to over three thousand Mariners.

  Nate and his companions had used an inflatable dinghy to transport Kara, Joe and their manacled prisoner back across the flooded city to the breach in the Wall, where more Mariners were waiting for them. They’d scaled the colossal rubble heap where the Houses of Parliament once stood, finding a small boat waiting on the far side. Now they were climbing a steel gangway to the Ark’s foredeck, where a diminutive, grey-haired woman stood leaning on a driftwood walking stick.

  “Hello, John,” she said as Cortez was shoved up the steps towards her. “You’ve been busy since I saw you last.”

  “Councillor Sedna Weaver,” Cortez said, his lip curling. “The boy says I have you to thank for breaking me out of that mudfoot sinkhole.”

  “Well, don’t think you’ll have an easier time of it with me,” the old woman replied. “You’re going in the brig until we reach Frisco, then I’ve asked the warden of Alcatraz to pick out a particularly damp and gloomy cell for you.”

  Cortez sighed, shaking his head. “We were on the same side once, you and I. What happened?”

  She laughed coldly. “You became a mass murderer. Take him away.”

  The tattooed Mariner seized Cortez by the collar, hauling him into the ship. Kara watched him go, wondering if it was for the last time.

  “Aunt Sedna,” Nate said, taking the old woman’s arm. “Meet Kara and Joe. Guys, this is my great-aunt. She came all this way to get me.”

  Sedna smiled fondly, creases forming around her eyes. “I didn’t come just for you, Nate. I’m here for this old Ark, too. You’ve both been away too long.” She clapped a hand on the Neptune’s railing. “And of course I came for John. He always did have a tendency to take things too far.”

  “You can’t have him,” Kara said. “He’s our prisoner – he belongs to the Shanties. You’ve got no right.”

  “I gave them the right,” a voice said, and Kara turned. A red-haired figure stepped from an open hatchway, crossing towards them. Ella King had been a schoolteacher, but after the battle she’d taken charge of the relief effort and saved countless lives. When she put herself forward for the post of prime minister there was never any doubt she’d win. She was one of the few people Kara trusted – or at least, she had been. “I called off the guards. I let the Mariners take Cortez.”

  “But why?” Kara spluttered. “He needs to be punished. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “He will be,” Miss Ella said. “Councillor Sedna has assured me of that. But she also told me why we can’t possibly keep him here. Cortez’s old network is still active. If they made a concerted effort to free him, we wouldn’t have the resources to stop them.”

  “John Cortez has questions to answer,” Sedna told them, gesturing between the buildings to the breach in the Wall. “The attack on your Shanties didn’t happen by accident, Kara. It was years in the planning. Cortez had help. He had funding. Someone stole that submarine from our dockyards and gave it to him. If I can find out who, I can bring them to justice.

  “There is a rift growing between my people,” she went on, her face darkening. “The Mariners have always been divided
; between the isolationists who believe that our own needs must always come first, and those like myself who feel that we’re part of this world and we ought to be working for the benefit of everyone in it. But Cortez and his followers are more extreme than either. They believe the Mariner way is the only way, that we should force it on others whether they want it or not. Our only chance to root out this poison is to put their leader on trial, to expose John Cortez’s lies.”

  “I don’t know you,” Kara said. “How do I know you aren’t secretly on his side?”

  “Kara, she’s my aunt,” Nate said, offended. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  “I did, until you broke a terrorist out of jail.”

  Nate reddened, and Kara sighed apologetically. “Of course I trust you,” she assured him. “And I want to trust your aunt too. But how do you know Cortez will be safer with you? How do you know there aren’t some of his people on this ship right now, waiting for their chance to free him?”

  “Um, we could go too,” said a small voice, and everyone looked down. Joe blushed as his eyes met Kara’s. “That way you could keep an eye on Cortez all the time. Make sure he stays locked up.”

  Kara felt her heart thump. For a moment she was lost for words.

  “It’d be fine with me,” Sedna told them. “It might even be a good thing. Kara could appear before the Council, make another one of her speeches. Put a human face to the suffering Cortez caused, maybe even convince them to send more aid to the Shanties.”

  “But this is my home,” Kara said, looking desperately at Miss Ella. “I’m needed here. Aren’t I?”

  The teacher pursed her lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Kara, but not really. You’ve done your bit for the Shanties. And you know, there’s going to be a giant uproar when I tell our people I let the Mariners take Cortez away. If I could tell them I sent you along to watch over him…”

  Joe reached for Kara’s hand. “It could be good for you, too. For us, I mean,” he added quickly. “So many bad things happened here, it could help us forget about them. You did say we’d leave when the time was right. Maybe it’s right now.”