Fuggers, said Adine. They’re not going to help us. We have to get higher.
The Grand Saloon, Debbie said, pointing across the street. The clocktower.
Do we swim?
Can you make it?
Stay close to me, said Adine.
I will.
The building dropped into the water, reeflike. Somewhere down there was Orchard Parkway. But now it was a river. The flood had reached the terrace of the Grand Saloon Hotel’s penthouse, emptied into the suite. Copper gables sloped into the old cathedral’s spire, and the bare clockface resembled a tired moon lapsing into the sea.
Hurry, said Adine.
They jumped, twin splashes, neither’s head went under.
Okay? said Debbie
Adine said, Okay.
The current swirled. The flood felt unsure of itself, directionless, waves buffeted them from all sides as they doggypaddled across. The only sounds other than the gurgle and plop of their strokes were the newscopters overhead — though these were fading, heading to the mainland to shoot the escapees as they washed up on the pebbly beach.
THE PIG APPEARED just as Pearl was beginning to slip under. Her knee had failed her, the flood had filled the common, she’d been forced into it with everyone else. All around her people struggled to stay afloat, calling to one another, Keep paddling — Head up — Stay with us now. As the water reached streetlevel some swam off, Pearl wasn’t sure where or why, past small boats loading survivors, kids first, which then shuttled off with promises of a swift return.
But they didn’t come back, and treading water among the abandoned hopefuls she felt her soaked clothes grow heavy. She kicked off her shoes, yet still some invisible weight dragged her down. She wouldn’t last, she was weak.
And then bobbing along: the pig.
It was a hollow thing of pink plastic. Pearl caught it, slung an arm around its neck, clung there with closed eyes, opened them to discover animals all around: a matching pig, two sheep, donkeys, cattle, lions, a whole zoo’s worth of creatures swimming up in pairs.
The Friendly Farm! someone cried, wrangling a goat.
They’ve come to save us!
There’s room on my rhino, come on!
Nearby a family climbed aboard an elephant, a kid to each leg and the parents on either side of its trunk. Its mate was mounted and claimed as an explorer might some new planet, a woman knelt upon it, arms raised, howling at the moon. More people found floatables, a fleet of them bobbed in the water. Pearl held on, waves buffeted her from all sides. It’s a miracle, someone cried. A miracle is what it is!
This was all drowned out with a fat band of light and a purr of engines. Out of the dark appeared a mirror-windowed and sleekly aerodynamic yacht. A teenage girl waved from its helm. We’re here, she cried, the Lanyesses are here!
Pearl was pulled aboard, the pig went spinning off. Below decks, dozens of survivors wore matching stunned expressions and housecoats. Many sat with teacups dangling from their fingertips, others drifted in and out of private berths, from the lavatory emerged a bearded man in a white bathrobe monogrammed ISA.
A woman was close, eyes wide and empathic, hand out. Pearl took it to shake, realized it was clenched in a fist and holding a marker.
Hi, said the woman, I’m Isa Lanyess. Now, actually I was just going to number you so we don’t go over capacity. Turn your hand over?
She wrote the number 16 on the inside of Pearl’s wet wrist.
Still room for one-thirty more! We’ve already rescued our full capacity once, just getting everyone safe. Doing our part because we can. The woman turned to address all the newcomers, dazed and dripping. Good luck with the animaltronics, huh? Now, I’m out of robes but towels are coming out of the dryer soon. Anyone care for some hot cider?
Lanyess, said Pearl.
That’s us! We’ve got the yacht so we figured we might as well help —
You used to be a ballplayer. For the Y’s.
Maroons, pre-Y’s. Funny you’d know me that way. . Anyway it’s a small world!
A small world, said Pearl, and this small world responded by tilting vertiginously, swirling into a kaleidoscope of her family’s faces: Kellogg’s, Elsie-Anne’s, Gip’s. Lanyess caught Pearl by the elbows and said, Okay there, I got you, and a sob swelled and burst in Pearl’s throat. There, said Isa Lanyess, yes, let it out, holding her while she wept.
As The Know prowled People Park, scooping survivors from the water, the Podesta Tower’s rotations finally shuddered to a halt.
So that’s it, said the Mayor.
With the solar power exhausted the elevator was out too, Diamond-Wood stabbed vainly at the CALL button, shot the Mayor a look of panic and dismay. She blinked, her eyelids so heavy it was a struggle to raise them again. She’d never felt so tired.
If you want to leave, she said, there’s always the stairs.
The outdoor stairs?
Off the viewing deck was a door marked EMERGENCY EXIT with a diagram of a man fleeing flames. Diamond-Wood pushed it open: an alarm would have normally gone screaming through the building, instead the only sound was the muted putter of helicopters. Gripping the doorframe in a skydiver’s pose, Diamond-Wood gazed down into the floodwaters.
Go, said the Mayor, go if you want to. But do you see how they’ve abandoned you?
A soft wind rumpled his hair.
Go!
He paused. But then where, he said. How will they know where to find me? I get to the bottom and then what? And then I’m stuck there, and then the water keeps coming up. . look, everything’s gone — look!
Into the room drifted chemical vapours churned up from Lowell Canal. A trio in a bathtub paddled past, a shower-curtain sail bulged and hustled them toward the mainland, where the newscopters stroked the beach with fingers of white light.
Mrs. Mayor, I’m scared, what should I do?
She shrugged, turned away, looked out over the city.
Her view was that of a ship captain up in the bridge. Other than Podesta Tower only a few structures broke the flood’s surface: the tallest skyscrapers, the spire of the Grand Saloon, the top of the Thunder Wheel, where bodies swarmed and seethed.
How many hadn’t made it? There was no telling. The Mayor thought of elderly couples entombed in Fort Stone attics as the water crept upstairs, covetous Bebroggers who, retrieving jewellery, had fallen through sodden, wilting floors, or, citywide, the irrevocably lonely who’d spent lifetimes waiting for a chance to end it all — and here it was, dribbling obligingly up to their front doors. The trapped and stubborn, the stupid, the unlucky, the vain. . All those quiet secret deaths, happening unknowably in the night.
After this, she said, we will be even stronger as a city. This is just a test. It’ll pass.
She looked to Diamond-Wood for corroboration, but his back was to her. The smell from outside was ammonia, human waste, spoiled meat.
There’s a boat coming, said Diamond-Wood. I’m going. I’m sorry.
Okay, said the Mayor. Go, ye of little faith. She smiled. Yes, imagine us after this! Just like now, but better, touch green. Imagine it: a place like this one, but everyone’s happier. Or at least they believe themselves to be. What else do people need?
But, turning, the Mayor discovered the boy already gone, helped onto the deck of The Know by Edie Lanyess. The yacht went churning north — leaving Diamond-Wood’s crutches twirling in the water like the hands of a crazed malfunctioning clock.
WHAT ARE YOU doing, why have you sojourneyed from your stroking?
Olpert gestured with his oar: There’s people there, on the spire.
What do you conspire, evil one?