Gray cliffs rose at either end of the dam—the same color as the concrete that had been used to build it. As Ulysses drove closer, I could see a small army of trucks and equipment parked around the dam’s base, painted in the familiar blue-green of the Minnesota flag.
What were the pirates doing? Were they planning to steal water from the reservoir? Such a brazen act would get us all killed. The dam was heavily fortified, with gun batteries spaced regularly along its walls and the Minnesota Water Guard standing watch all across its length. There would be no escape, and stealing water was a capital crime.
I must have been fidgeting on the seat, because Ulysses turned to me and said, “Don’t fret, little sister. We’re just here for talking. Even pirates know their limits.”
“Is this where they’ve taken the boy?” I asked. “The one you’re following?”
Will pinched my thigh, but I ignored him. I gave Ulysses my most innocent look, as if my interest were purely theoretical.
“Taken? What makes you think they’ve taken him?”
I tried to keep my voice steady. “Isn’t that what you said?”
“We don’t know he’s been taken. But we know they’ve been here.”
“Were they drilling in Minnesota?” I asked.
To drill for another republic was treason, which might explain why Kai and his father disappeared so quickly and why the RGs were looking for them. It still didn’t explain the pirates’ interest, but if Kai’s father had discovered a secret river, the pirates would want the water for themselves. If pirates wanted what the Minnesotans had, there would be a fight. And here we were, traveling with Ulysses right into the heart of it.
“Not drilling,” said Ulysses. “Planning.” I didn’t say anything, but Ulysses kept talking. “There’s a hydrologist works out of the research center—Dr. Tinker. Older guy, looks like Albert Einstein. He gives them information, and they do the same.”
“But he’s a Minnesotan,” I said.
“It’s people who draw these boundaries,” said Ulysses. “The earth and sky don’t have borders.”
“Maybe. But the Minnesotans think they do.”
“As I said, we’re just talking. Convincing comes later.”
Ulysses might have said more, but the flash came first, followed by the sound. It was as if lightning struck three times in quick succession, except the sky was clear, and thunderstorms were a thing of fiction and holo-casts. Then the concussive booms followed, each one more violent than the last.
What happened next was unlike anything I had ever seen or was likely to see again. The middle section of the great dam began to collapse. It happened in slow motion: the walls trembled and seemed to melt inward, then a fissure opened in the middle into which each end was gradually swallowed.
Water, billions and billions of liters, rushed over the top of the broken wall and into the valley below. It spilled from the great dam, sweeping trucks, concrete, and people before it. It came down from the cliffs and rushed toward us, as fast and furious as a tidal wave or an earthquake—an unleashed, angry river, the power of which was something no person could control.
We didn’t even have time to run.
CHAPTER 9
The first thing I noticed when I awoke was that my clothes were soaking wet and plastered to my body. I had never been wet without a mask, and never when fully dressed. It was a huge waste of water, potentially dangerous and likely to make me sick. These were the lessons I had learned in the classroom, at a desk in a school that was now hundreds of kilometers away.
I tried to move, but my sides ached painfully. One leg was bent behind me as if it belonged to someone else. My hands were scratched and bleeding, and I could taste more blood in my mouth. I felt for teeth and was relieved to find they appeared to be intact. I pressed against them with my tongue, confirming that none were loose or broken. I managed to lift my head a few centimeters from the ground, but I could only see mud, rocks, and water. I could also hear a rushing sound, like a steady wind blowing through sand. But there was no wind and no sand. My head sank back into the mud.
It came back to me then. The explosions. The dam collapsing. Ulysses throwing open the doors and pushing us from the truck. After that everything was a blur. The waters caught me and swept me away. It was like the ancient river our father had described—so much water rushing wildly over everything in its path. I struggled to stay afloat, then just let myself be taken wherever the river intended.
Time passed. I didn’t know how much. It might have been an hour; it might have been a day. Although I felt dizzy and was in pain, I was able to pull my leg beneath me and, by propping myself up with my elbows, move into a sitting position. From there I could see the ruined landscape, the chunks of concrete and metal. Water ran everywhere, and even the skies were dark and muddied. There was no sign of the dam or of the people and machines, although I could still see the cliffs where the structure had once been seamlessly joined. No Will. No Ulysses. Everything had been swept away.
I realized how hungry I was, and despite being soaked, how thirsty. I cupped my hands to sip some water from the pool in front of me. In school the teachers had drilled it into us not to drink anything that didn’t have a government stamp on it, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d drunk. The water might make me sick, but what choice did I have? I leaned over and scooped the liquid into my hands.
The water was delicious—cool, fresh, and invigorating. It tasted like the water Kai had brought with him to dinner at our home: real water, unfiltered and without chemicals, straight from the sky into a river, from which it flowed up to the dam. I scooped up several more handfuls, drinking my fill until my belly hurt, and I burped loudly.
I sat straighter and looked around again. I guessed it was the middle of the afternoon. Though it was warmer than normal for the time of year, within a few hours, it would soon grow cold. I knew I couldn’t survive the night outside in wet clothes. Already I felt chilled to the bone, and my fingers were numb. If I didn’t start moving, I might perish just from sitting still. I placed my palms on the ground and pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. I swayed woozily in the thick air until my balance returned. Then I began to walk.
At first I followed the river downstream. It seemed natural to follow the flow of water, which rippled and coiled like a living thing. But as my head cleared, I realized the chances of finding survivors were greater back at the dam. There was more likely to be food and shelter there too. So I turned, retraced my steps, and made my way upriver.
With each step my feet squeaked. The water had soaked through my shoes, and my toes rubbed against hard plastene. I had barely walked a kilometer before my skin was raw. Another kilometer, and my toes were bloody. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to go on. Step, step, step. I counted each one. As I got closer to the dam, I saw a pile of clothes abandoned by the side of the river, but when I approached, I realized it was actually a dead body twisted in a gruesome way. I covered my eyes and moved quickly ahead. However, the dead bodies were everywhere. Their faces were bloated, and their limbs were discolored and swollen. It was hard to believe that water could kill so many people, but the proof was right there in front of me. Perhaps the people caught by the river could not believe it either until the water had swept them away.
I tried hard not to think about Will, but I couldn’t help looking at each body, praying that none was him. Ulysses had pushed us both from the truck, and Will had grabbed my hand. But the river separated us immediately, plunging us down into the watery depths from which I emerged alone. If Will was out there, he had surfaced somewhere else. I had to believe he was looking for me as I was looking for him. I refused to accept any other truth but that he had managed to survive somehow. It was my only hope, and it kept me moving. Each step might bring us closer.