The Government official turned and walked briskly through the entrance. Alan Perry waited for the rest of his group to make their way in, until it was his turn to step over the threshold of the Van Zandt building… Alan Perry knew they had just entered a very well-appointed prison, and this was his last glimpse of the Archipelago as a free man.
Flynn couldn’t remember the last time he had gone on a solo dive, without the aid of a bell and a Crew Mate… It might have been in the early years, before he had become Ann Baxter’s student. Freediving was all about ease of movement, relaxation and the conserving of energy. It was both exhilarating and calming to be underwater without any support. And Flynn needed to be by himself… He wanted peace and quiet, and with every passing second, this solitary experience was working its magic on him. It helped clear his head, pushing all thoughts away, making him concentrate on the steps he needed to take in order to reach the ocean bed.
The first step had been Flynn’s entry in the water… He had started by floating on the surface, slowing his heart rate to around fifty beats per minute, breathing deep and taking his time. With the last complete breath, he had jackknifed, letting his feet rise up so that their weight could thrust his streamlined body downward. And then, he had begun a series of low frequency, stiff-legged kicks, staying as relaxed as possible… The trick was not to exert yourself, or as Ann Baxter liked to say, ‘trying to sleep your way down to the bottom’. Twenty seconds into the dive, and gliding along nicely, Flynn had already reached a depth of fifty feet. Soon he would have to equalize the water pressure in his ears, gain more momentum in reaching his final destination.
He switched on his flashlight as he approached the submerged city streets beneath him. The place looked undisturbed, and Flynn was sure no one had scavenged it yet. He was swimming in uncharted territory, but inevitably, everything about the site had a familiar feel to it… The piles of mangled vehicles, the twisted poles and cables which had been covered in thick layers of barnacles, seaweed and silt… It was no different from what Flynn had encountered on previous dives. The fact that the ocean bed around the Archipelago was a grave-yard never bothered him much. It didn’t feel sinister or scary to Flynn… Most people would have hated it, but not him… Flynn had always loved this eerie underworld, because it was a direct link to a long forgotten past. Ironically, it had also become a source of sustenance for those who lived in the present.
But now, as he coasted along the rooftops of a submerged row of houses, Flynn was struck by an overwhelming feeling of sadness… Suddenly, there was something strange and unpleasant about the dive. For the first time in his life, he felt like an intruder, disturbing the final resting place of so many lost souls. The place was full of ghosts, Flynn thought as he swam past the top floor of a brick building… And then, lodged between the narrow bars of one of its windows, Flynn saw the well-preserved remains of a child’s toy. He felt his heart stop. He used to have a toy like that. It was a little stuffed animal his father had given him when he was four years old… In a flash, the thought of Alan Perry made Flynn come to his senses. What was he doing down here? Running away from his problems wasn’t going to solve anything! Grabbing hold of one of the bars, Flynn managed to free the toy and tuck it safely in his diving harness. Flynn knew he had to go back and see his father… He had to apologize for what he had said and ask the man for his forgiveness. Kicking hard with his feet, Flynn shot up toward the surface.
Alan Perry had never entered the Van Zandt building before. He was following his guide as they made their way through a labyrinth of long corridors. He stared at the marble columns, the vaulted ceilings and polished wooden floors. There were even real paintings hanging on the walls! They were nothing like the pages torn from old magazines, or the tatty posters and billboards people would decorate their living spaces with… Real art didn’t exist anymore. At least not on the Lower Side… No one had the resources or the time to create art in that way… let alone to put it in a frame!
Walking in a daze, Flynn’s father felt like a child in a magical world that was unfolding slowly before his eyes. But he would be allowed only a brief glimpse of this world… only a week at the end of his life. Then the memories of what he had seen would disappear together with him and everybody on the List. His chest tightened. This week of celebration in the Van Zandt building was all a cruel tease… a perverse game the Government would play with his mind, because they knew that no one would object to it! Suddenly, Alan Perry felt sickened by everything he had been admiring.
“Mr. Perry!” A voice disturbed his thoughts. The guide now stood in front of a heavy wooden door. “This is your Departure Suite, sir.”
The door slid open silently, revealing a long dark hallway.
“This will be your residence for the rest of the week. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served in our gala room. You’ll find a full list of instructions on your bed.” The guide paused, avoiding any eye-contact with Alan Perry. “Can you read, sir? We provide help for those who can’t.”
“I can read,” said Alan Perry and stepped inside the suite.
“Have a nice stay!” his guide mumbled as he closed the door firmly after him.
Flynn’s father heard it lock promptly from the outside, and then listened as the footsteps of the guide died away quickly down the corridor. He stood for a moment in the dusky hallway, his head resting against the nearest wall. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he suddenly became aware of how different the air smelled. A sweet scent was drifting all around him, making him dizzy and aroused at the same time. His hand found the light switch and flicked it on. Instantly, the suite was bathed in bright light. “Well…” he said, now speaking to himself, “let’s explore our new home, shall we?”
The hallway led Alan Perry into a spacious living room and to the source of the wonderful, heady fragrance. There were half a dozen vases placed around the room and all of them were full of freshly cut flowers. Hypnotized, he walked slowly toward one of them. Flynn’s father reached out and touched the petals to see if they were real. Of course, they were! He had spent all his life thinking that flowers were a thing of the past… that they only existed in the memories of ancients and in pictures. Now, he realized they were still around, most probably grown in one of the greenhouses, exclusively for the pleasure of the Upper Side residents… The Government was wasting drinking water on flowers, while the Lower Side had to ration it, Alan Perry thought with disgust.
His eyes shifted to the huge glass window with a perfect view of the city below. No one had real glass on the Lower Side! Alan Perry dropped his bag on the leather sofa and walked over to the window. He rapped his knuckles on the glass then pressed his face against the window. Flynn was somewhere out there… Alan Perry clenched his fists, angry at himself. Why had he spoiled Flynn’s happiness with his harsh words? The boy would remember him by them… remember the bitterness of a failed man… A single tear rolled down Alan Perry’s cheek, then disappeared into the coarse stubble of his trembling chin.
NINETEEN
“Hey! Uncle Dale!”
“Well, look who’s here!” shouted Dale Baker from his lookout perch. The man lowered his binoculars, and his pale watery eyes hovered over Flynn. “You’re a foot taller since I last saw you!”