“We’re in luck,” he said as he took the rudder from Madison and made a sharp right into a side canal.
“What is it?” she cried, nearly falling off her seat.
“The Black Market’s open for business!” Flynn said. “It’s on Fletcher Street Canal today! We’d better hurry before it’s gone.”
Rafts and pontoons of all shapes and sizes were lined up, side by side, along the length of Fletcher Street Canal. Colorful awnings stretched over them, forming a row of market-like stalls. But none of these vessels were moored. Huddled together, they floated freely, ready to disperse and be gone in seconds. Unlike other markets on the Lower Side, this one was illegal… Of course, everyone knew it existed, including the Government. It was like a living, breathing entity, without a permanent home. Always held in different spots and at different times of day, its location would quickly spread around by word of mouth. Because it was illegal, the market had a very short life, and would only last until the Government scouts had alerted the Wardens… who would then, in turn, send word to the cops. Once its whereabouts were discovered, the market would quickly disband and disappear, as if into thin air.
Madison had been to the Black Market a few times in the past, trading some pigeon meat and eggs, but generally, she preferred to avoid it… Not worth the risk, she believed, unless there was no other way to get what she needed. The Seeker had passed a few water-bike cops before entering the canal. They were all bribed, Madison thought, by the Black Market vendors, and that’s why they were turning a blind eye! She knew that much without Flynn telling her.
“What are you looking for?” she asked when they joined the line of vessels, moving slowly past the makeshift stalls.
“I’ll know it, when I see it,” Flynn replied, his eyes darting from one vendor to the next, quickly checking out their merchandise.
They were passing by a couple of food stalls now. The first was selling herbs and spices. The stall belonged to an Indian man, his head wrapped in a grimy turban. He stood behind his counter, arranging his bowls full of sun-dried algae, kelp and urchin powders. The next stall up was a meat vendor’s. There was a rope strung across the top of the vessel, heavy with the weight of glazed and roasted rats. Madison noticed an assortment of smoked, well-seasoned seagulls hanging from a dozen hooks. An old rusty grill stood at the back where skewered pigeons were slowly rotating over it as they cooked. The vendor was surrounded by all kinds of pots and pans with fish on the fry. As much as Madison was tempted by their delicious smell, she knew they wouldn’t be stopping. Plus, she didn’t like the way the man was looking at her pigeon cage. No, she definitely wasn’t going to trade her two little birds for anything in the world!
Flynn kept going, scanning one stall after another. He knew that everything out on display was considered innocent merchandise, mostly food or useless junk… The real good stuff, the illegal trade, was usually hidden under the counters. Being a frequent visitor, Flynn had befriended some of the regular vendors, but they were never at the same spot twice. He would have to go through the whole market if he wanted to find them.
“That’s the one!” Flynn cried suddenly. He had stopped next to a raft with a tiny shack built on top of its deck. The vendor’s front counter displayed a variety of household items, most of them completely useless and worth very little. Flynn swung a mesh bag full of canned vegetables over his shoulder. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute,” he told Madison, before stepping off the Seeker. He disappeared behind the shabby curtain on the side of the shack.
Madison grabbed a long hook and caught the tire hanging on the side of the vendor’s raft, trying to keep the Seeker from drifting away. A few minutes later, Flynn reappeared and was back next to her, holding a coil of nylon rope and two rolls of tin foil. He shoved them under the seat and rummaged through his bag. “These are for you,” he said, handing Madison a pair of goggles. “Every diver needs a good pair.”
“Thanks!”
“We’ll modify them later for a better fit.” Flynn was extremely pleased with his successful trade. He had haggled with the vendor over the final price and had managed to come out on top. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, steering the Seeker away from the Black Market stalls.
“See that guy?” Flynn pointed at the dark-skinned teenage boy. “That’s Pharrell Lewis… him and Clay Adams, over there on the pedals, are our biggest competition!”
Madison squinted at the shabby raft approaching the Seeker. It was coming back from open waters, moving at a leisurely pace toward the eastern outskirts of the Lower Side. This was where Flynn had dropped anchor for their last day of training. He had decided to stick to the city limits during the week before the Trials, avoiding the risk of another encounter with Leo Van Zand. Madison had worked hard, going through all the drills without a hitch, and Flynn felt she was ready for the big day.
As their rafts slowly glided past each other, the tall black boy nodded at Flynn. His shaved head shone in the bright sun, and he had a pair of goggles round his unusually thick and muscular neck. Pharrell looked Madison up and down. His eyes stopped on the straw sticking out of her mouth. “This your new Crew Mate, Perry?” Pharrell laughed, pointing at Madison. “Still sucking on a straw, like a little baby!”
Madison shot him an angry look. She was about to say something back, but Flynn was quicker.
“Damn right, she is!” he said, throwing his arm over Madison’s shoulder. “And she’ll kick your butts at the Trials tomorrow!”
“Oh, we’re sooo scared, ain’t we Clay?” Pharrell shared a quick laugh with his buddy then turned back to Flynn, his hands trembling. “See, I’m already shakin’ with fear!”
The other boy giggled, pressed on the pedals, and their raft sped away quickly.
“Good luck tomorrow, guys!” Flynn shouted after them.
“Same to you, Perry!” Pharrell yelled back.
“Pharrell and Clay are a good team, but not as good as ours!” Flynn told Madison, and realized suddenly that his arm was still around her shoulder. He pulled it away. Luckily, Madison didn’t seem to notice his sudden discomfort. She was too busy glaring after the two boys.
“Don’t mind him,” Flynn said hastily. “Believe it or not, we’re friends.”
Madison’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Flue’ns?” She took the straw out of her mouth and said, “Friends? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“No, I’m dead serious. Doesn’t look it, but we are.”
Madison threw an angry look at Pharrell’s raft then studied the straw she was holding.
“Do I really have to keep breathing through this thing?”
“Yeah! I told you, it strengthens the muscles in your chest. It’s an important exercise.”
“It makes me look stupid!” Madison made a face, rolling the straw between her fingers. “It’s embarrassing!”
“Like I said, don’t pay any attention to Pharrell.” Flynn laughed and patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll beat him and Clay tomorrow!”
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Madison asked. “Does it matter who’s first and who ends up last at the Trials? Everybody gets to be a Free Scavenger if they make it through to the end, right?”