The Water Wars

I took my brother’s hand.

 

The two of us faced the ocean, oddly still as the guards on their moto-skis buzzed toward us. After all the cycling, running, driving, flying, and swimming, it felt good to stand still. Not surrender, because that meant giving up. But defiance and resolve.

 

The moto-skis drew closer. The noise was as loud as the jet that had pursued us over the soy fields. Each man wore a pair of yellow-tinted goggles and a black breathing mask. The skin around their masks was grayish-green. The ocean was black and brown. The sky was a pale sickly orange.

 

The machines were fifty meters from the edge of the beach when each man suddenly reared up as if performing a flip, then somersaulted off the back of his ski. The machines continued toward the beach without drivers, fast and furious, roaring up on the sand, grinding and careening and finally crashing into each other. It was all we could do to avoid being struck by rocks and debris before one of the moto-skis burst into flames and the other followed.

 

The entire incident took less than a few seconds, and neither of us noticed that the top of the skimmer was now open, and a woman stood in the hatchway, a harpoon in her hand.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 17

 

 

The said her name was Sula. She stood over us with a tempered steel harpoon, no larger than a sword, but finely honed and deadly sharp. It glinted blue in the afternoon sun. Her arms were exposed in her wet suit, and the muscles twined up her forearms like ropes. Beneath her black cap, her hair was salt-bleached blond, and her eyes were a deep violet-blue. The water still dripped from her suit, and there was blood on her hands.

 

“You’re a long way from the city.” Her voice cracked like someone who was not used to speaking.

 

“We’re not from the city,” I said.

 

“No. I can see that.” Her gaze was flat and direct and did not linger.

 

“Did you kill those men?” asked Will.

 

Sula nodded.

 

“What will happen to you?”

 

She shrugged and wiped one hand on her wet suit. “They’ll come after me, I expect. They won’t find me, and then they’ll forget. They usually do.”

 

“Have you killed a lot of men?”

 

“When I’ve had to. Women too.” She began walking toward the burning moto-skis, and we followed. She picked up some of the scattered debris, examined it, then tossed most of it into the fire. “Bluewater rubbish,” she said. “Plasteel and tin.”

 

“Shouldn’t we be running?” I asked.

 

Sula gave me the flat gaze again, efficient and expressionless. “You’ve got a broken collarbone, and he’s got a leg wound. You’ll not be running far, I expect.”

 

“Can you take us? In the skimmer?”

 

“What’s in it for me?”

 

“Water. We know where to find it.”

 

“Not hard to find,” she jerked her head toward Bluewater. “They’re sucking it out of the sea.”

 

“No. We know someone who knows how to find fresh water. A diviner, they call him.”

 

Sula exhaled sharply through her nose. “I’ve heard of such a thing. But I don’t believe it.”

 

“I’ve seen him do it,” I insisted. “He knows where it flows. They’ve got him locked up in Bluewater with his father and a pirate king.”

 

“A pirate king!” Sula’s lips curled into a slight smile.

 

“It’s true!”

 

“Stomping your feet won’t change my mind.”

 

I was tired, beyond exhausted. The pain in my shoulder was vibrant and aflame. My skin was chafed, chapped, and raw. But I wasn’t going to let this harpoon woman scare me, or worse, ignore me. Who did she think she was?

 

“We’ll go back by ourselves, then,” I said. I stripped to my underwear and threw my shirt to the sand. Will stared at me, wide-eyed. “Come on, Will,” I said. “We’re swimming. And my collarbone’s not broken,” I added.

 

Sula’s fingers on my forearm were like the keys of an old-fashioned piano, solid and delicate at once. “You shouldn’t be swimming in these waters. Not without a wet suit, goggles, and a breathing apparatus.”

 

“I don’t care! We have to rescue Kai. And Ulysses.” I stood before Sula, hands clenched, breathing hard. Will came up beside me. I really was prepared to swim back to Bluewater, and no one could stop me. I had abandoned reason for pure emotion. It coursed through my blood like holo-sugar, a chemically induced energy infusion. I felt like I could have jumped back into the ocean, chemicals be damned.

 

“I’ll take you in the skimmer,” said Sula.

 

“You will?” Despite my outburst, I was surprised to have convinced this woman of anything.

 

Sula scooped up my clothes and handed them to me. “I don’t like Bluewater, in case it isn’t obvious. When I saw those men on their skis—what kind of men kill children? And who knows? If there’s fresh water to be had…” She let her voice trail off.

 

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