The Water Wars (11 page)

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.

Then I saw something that made my heart hammer in my chest: a familiar jacket and a long scarf. It was Ali, the pirate who had sat with us in the back of the truck. His mouth was open in an expression of surprise, as if he had tried to drink the water before it killed him. Nearby I recognized another pirate, and then another. Altogether there were six of them grouped closely, soaked and exposed, tattoos blending with purplish bruises and swollen skin. Their bulletproof clothing had not saved them from drowning. In fact, the weight had dragged them under. But I was relieved to discover Ulysses was not among them, nor could I see the dogs, Cheetah and Pooch. I averted my eyes and walked swiftly away.

It was growing dark. Nothing moved except the water. It appeared to be endless, still flowing out of the dam, running downstream toward who knew where. My teeth throbbed, and the skin on my hands was shriveled and yellowed. I sat on the wet ground. This time I couldn’t control the sobs. They consumed me, wracking my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. I was alone, truly alone. I was cold, hungry, and wet, and in a matter of hours, it would be too dark to see. Nothing but ruin surrounded me in every direction. There was no place for shelter, no safety. My brother was missing; Kai was gone; the pirates were dead; and all was lost. I cried until I could cry no more, and my head pounded in agony.

Then in the distance, I saw a light. It swept across the landscape, probing and inquisitive. It shot high into the sky, then swept low across the land. I stood and waved, summoning it to draw close. I didn’t care about the danger or who might be near. Nothing could be worse than staying out all night alone in the soaked and broken land. A light meant people, and people would mean food, water, dry clothes. I jumped up, trying to catch the beams with my hands. But the light danced and shimmied, never resting in any one place for long. Several times it arced above my head, then fell short just before my feet. It seemed to have a mind of its own, sniffing out the corners of the earth in search of something only it knew. Then for several minutes it disappeared entirely, and I thought I was doomed. But it reemerged in a different position—closer and more intense. I broke into a run, trying to capture it before it disappeared again.

I heard the men, then—loud voices shouting and the crackling of radios. I heard something else too that made me stop in my tracks: gunfire. Short staccato bursts. I had never heard gunfire before, but it was unmistakable. Each bullet was clear, crisp, and final. A string of them together sounded like balloons popping in a frenzied burst. I turned to run, but it was too late; the light caught me, and I was frozen in its glare.

Two gloved hands grabbed me and threw me roughly to the ground. I didn’t even try to fight; I just lay there, silently waiting for the end. Then the light was upon me, so bright I couldn’t even open my eyes. I heard a voice, but I couldn’t understand the words.
Kee-ay-too
, the voice said.
Kee-ay-too?

It’s French, I thought. The men were Canadian. Had the truce between Minnesota and Canada been broken? Were the countries at war? The world was too large and complex to grasp. The intricate allegiances of governments and people seemed to flutter as unpredictability as that butterfly in the jet stream. I was just a girl trying to find my brother, my friend, and my way home.

Then in perfect English, the voice said, “Who are you?”

I opened my eyes, but I still could not see.

“Who are you?” the voice repeated again.

“Vera,” I said.

“How did you get here?”

“The pirates brought me.”

“Shut off the damned light,” said the voice.

The world was plunged back into night. Now I could see the man standing over me. He wore a green beret, a dark green shirt, and green camouflage pants. The men surrounding him were dressed similarly. I assumed they were wearing the uniform of the Canadian army, or maybe the Water Guard. Will would know if he were here. I fought back another round of tears.

“Who are
you?
” I asked.

“The People’s Environmental Liberation Army,” the man said proudly.

I had heard of PELA but thought the organization was just a horror story told by shakers to frighten kids. PELA did terrible things—bombing desalinization plants, poisoning reservoirs, kidnapping and killing WAB ministers, burning oil supplies. They made pirates look like respectable citizens. Now I was in their hands.

“Did you blow up the dam?”

“Of course we blew up the dam,” said the man. He seemed offended that I might think otherwise.

“And kill all those pirates?”

“Most definitely.”

“And what about the Minnesotans?”

“They’re dead too.”

I took in all this information. It was almost too much to bear. My father once told us that all people believed in the same God, although each had a different name for Him. But Will said there was no God, just a need for people to believe. Wherever they were, I hoped Ali and the pirates were at peace.

“Are you the leader?” I asked.

“I’m Nasri,” said the man. “Chief environmental scientist.”

“You’re not much of a scientist.”

“Who do you think invented those explosives? Ordinary dynamite or C4 couldn’t blow such a structure.”

Nasri was practically hopping on one foot, as if he couldn’t wait to get going in some race. He was small and wiry with a short beard and stubbly hair. Once I got a good look at him, he didn’t frighten me at all, although his eyes looked wild—one brown, one blue—and I could see them shining even in the darkness. His men hung back, as if they didn’t know whom he might strike next. There were eight of them, each bearded, each wearing the same combat outfit.

“They’ll come after you,” I said. “Now that they know you’ve blown the dam.”

“You’re an expert?” asked Nasri. “It’s twenty-five kilometers to Canada, and there’s clear passage all the way to Niagara.”

Canada? Were Nasri and his men allied with the Canadians? If so it was a strange alliance. The Canadians had destroyed the environment, hoarding much of Earth’s water and killing thousands of species of fish and land animals. Years ago their prime minister had been indicted for environmental crimes by the world court, although he was never prosecuted after the court was destroyed in a terrorist attack and the chief justice was killed.

“Shouldn’t be surprised,” said Nasri. “The Canadians need us, and we need the Canadians. Suits all our purposes.”

“But what about when the war is over?”

Nasri laughed—a short, sharp bark. “The war will never be over. Not as long as there’s water on Earth. Humans will fight for the last drop.”

“I don’t believe it. Earth is too important.”

“Ha! You’re an environmentalist.”

“If being an environmentalist means blowing things up and killing people, I’d rather be a pirate.”

Nasri stopped hopping and fixed me with a glare. “No one’s giving you a choice. Now get moving.” He pushed me hard toward his men.

“I can’t walk anymore. I think my toes are broken.”

Nasri signaled with one open hand, and a hover-carrier appeared as if from nowhere, pulling up beside him and floating silently. I had never seen a hover-carrier before. They were very expensive, owned only by the military and the wealthiest WABs. Fast, sleek, and silent, a hover-carrier could reach speeds of 250 kilometers an hour without kicking up any dust as it glided over the rocks and dirt. I couldn’t imagine how PELA could afford one, but before I could even ponder that riddle, two more hover-carriers glided to a halt beside the first. Men in camouflage jumped from the back and stood at attention, waiting for Nasri’s orders.

“Search the bodies,” he said. “Take any weapons you find and all their personal effects. We’ll ransom them back to the families.”

The men broke into groups and fanned out downriver. Nasri turned his attention to me. “Into the carrier,” he ordered.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You may still be valuable. Do you have all your teeth?” He fingered my mouth. I winced and pulled away.

“The army knows we’re here.”

“In Minnesota?”

“We’re from Minnesota.”

Nasri smiled. His teeth were small and flat, worn down like a desert rat’s. “Not likely,” he said. “Now get into the truck.”

He shoved me roughly toward the hover-carrier. Another man grabbed my arm and yanked so hard that I practically fell into the back of the cargo hold. I stumbled, then regained my balance, but the man had already slammed the door shut behind me. I grabbed the handle. It would not open, and the glass was thick and obviously bulletproof. I pounded at it with my palms, but it barely made a sound. My nails hurt just trying to scratch it.

I turned, and my eyes adjusted to the dark. I picked out boxes, weapons, and electronic equipment lining the shelves in the narrow hold. Many things were still wrapped, untouched, as if they had been newly purchased. There seemed to be no order, just rows of expensive items—loot from PELA operations. On the far wall I noticed a small machine with the name
Bluewater
stamped on it, which I assumed was the owner or manufacturer of the machine.

Then I noticed something else as well—a body lying prone on the ground. A boy’s body. He was bloody and covered with mud. He didn’t move.

“Will!” I cried.

T
he hover-carriers glided silently over the ravaged land. Where rivers once flowed, there were now only huge gashes like scars on the earth. Lake beds had dried up, forming dust bowls that swirled with toxic chemicals and heavy metals. The ice and permafrost that covered the northern reaches had disappeared or been melted for water. The sea levels had risen, and salt water poisoned any underground aquifers that were not depleted from years of overuse. Rain fell, but in such torrents and violent storms that most of it washed into the ocean. The weather was unpredictable, and humans stole the clouds, sucking moisture from the sky and using it for their own purposes. Drought and death darkened the continents, and even the fittest could barely survive.