Salvaged: Drowned Earth, #8

PROLOGUE

New Melbourne: a far-from-glittering jewel. A hard-won utopia of academics and scientists earnestly trying to bring technology and education back to a broken world.

Built around the remains of the high-rise buildings in the CBD, the floating city is anchored to the submerged inner-city suburbs. Thirty kilometres from the mainland shores to the east, west and north, it is held solidly in the arms of a perimeter wall which every citizen is taught to patrol and defend from the day they turn fifteen.

The wall runs from the submerged base of the Westgate Bridge, along the Yarra Flow, to what was once Federation Square. It cuts north through Collingwood and the old Melbourne Museum, then across to where the zoo once housed the last beautiful specimens of lost animal species. It forms a V point at the edge of North Melbourne where the marina has developed, before running across to Footscray, then back down to the bridge.

Sixty years since the catastrophic event, New Melbourne is emerging as the epicentre of knowledge, training and hope for recovering the best of what was lost in the Rise.

CHAPTER ONE

A light predawn breeze rippled the silver surface of the quiescent ocean. A lone jogger navigated the perimeter path in the dull grey light, warm breath-clouds disappearing in her wake.

She stopped and rested her hands on her knees, catching her breath and letting her heart rate drop. She turned her head slowly to look through her hair in both directions for any of the duty guards. As soon as she was sure she was alone, she reached for the cracks in the top of the breakwater wall, part-jumped and part-scrambled up, swinging her legs over and carefully negotiating the slippery outer edge, down to the exposed rooftops of the reinforced buildings below. The tide was out far enough to find a space to sit and watch the dawn emerge across the endless southern ocean in solitude.

She folded her arms across her knees and rested her chin on them. A tiny sigh puffed warm from her lips.

Unfolding a little solar and wind tripod, she hung her phone beneath it. The tiny silver blades spun slowly in the breeze. She scrolled for a radio station and slid the volume up a notch.

‘. . . good morning, New Melbournites! It’s another beautiful calm-before-the-storm sunrise, so shake off the sleepies . . . this is your favourite air jockey bringing you the best mix of BTR and ATR tunes . . .’

The phone flashed, but she hesitated before accepting. Too early Vin, what’s up?

Happy birthday, Cassie. Where are you hiding?

Her momentary smile blew away in the breeze. Thanks for reminding me, Vin. I don’t have to tell you where I am on my day off.

‘. . . a golden oldie to take us into the news . . .’ Something early twenty-first century bounced from the speaker.

I don’t know why they keep playing that old crap. Cassie screwed up her nose. I doubt even our grandparents would remember BTR.

At least you had grandparents, Cass. Vin’s voice held a well-practised reprimand. And it has only been sixty years, so there are plenty of people who still remember before the asteroid and the Rise—some of us studied history, you know.

I didn’t have to study history with Granddad always going on and on about how we lost the MCG and the greatest game in the world and making me recite the names of all the lost suburbs and Grandnan demanding I repeat useless historical trivia ad nauseam, you know she was obsessed with—

Yeah, look, I hate to be the harbinger of bad news and cut off your happy family reminiscence, but there is a big one brewing. All the boats are anchored in North Melbourne marina and we’re being called in to batten down the hatches. We’ve a huge stockpile of food in Eureka waiting to be delivered to the trade boats and it is pretty exposed, we can’t affor—

Okay, you don’t need to treat me like a kid Vin, I know when a storm is brewing as well as you do. I’ll be there when I finish my breakfast. She touched the off button on her ear clip and leaned back against the concrete barrier.

‘. . . from the mainland. The water raids are putting strain on the inland communities and rationing has been tightened . . .’

Why don’t they desal? Cassie shrugged and bit into her seaweed roll. Mainlanders are crazy.

She stared out to the southern horizon across endless water and chewed slowly. This was her favourite view. In New Melbourne, finding space to be alone was hard, but down here on these old rooftops she was guaranteed solitude.

Her phone flashed again. Cassie’s shoulders dropped a little.

So much for solitude.

What now, Vin? A sigh punctuated her greeting.

I forgot to ask if you want to come to Box Hill Island with us on the weekend?

Mmmm, maybe.

Also, I told the boss I’m sending messages to your house comm so he thinks you’re home. He said you need to move your backside or have it kicked.

Sure. Who’s doing the kicking? She cut off Vin’s laugh with the press of a button and settled back against the wall. The chill breeze off the ocean lifted the tendrils of her hair and bit her cheeks. The still beauty of the ocean belied the oncoming storm.

‘In the beachside suburb of Melton, three people have been killed in a clash with Combers. One survivor is in a critical condition in Djerriwarrh hospital fighting for her life. A witness claimed they were packing up their belongings when the Combers . . .’

Savouring the last salty mouthful of seaweed roll, Cassie stood and stretched, turning to the east to watch the sun slide over the Dandenongs. The mountains stood in shadow thirty kilometres away across almost empty water, dotted with a few islands like Box Hill between the perimeter wall and the beach suburbs in the foothills. A sliver of salmon pink touched the top of the ranges, rapidly bleeding orange to vivid red. The red lingered for several minutes before the sun pushed above the tree line and the sky changed to washed-out blue.

Red sky at morning we all take warning.

She removed her ear clips, folded the tripod away and wrapped it, with her phone, in a towel. She shoved the bundle in her backpack just in time.

Hey you, kid!

She jumped at the voice booming down and looked up to a face peering over the wall.

What are you doing out there? No one outside the perimeter.

Her heart thundered in her chest. Sorry, I’ll be right up.

What’s your name?

She didn’t answer, concentrating on making her nervous fingers find the first holds on the crumbling concrete. A few calming breaths and she continued, swift and sure-footed. She was over the wall in minutes. She dropped softly to the path and smiled sweetly as she faced the barrier patrol member.

Oh, it’s you, Miss Orm. The man’s voice was tinged with frustration. "I’ve told you a dozen times not to go out there, those old buildings could collapse any time and the tide comes in fast. The outer barrier doesn’t stop that, as you well know. We don’t have the people to rescue one stupid fool, even if it is you. He rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger, then pointed at her. If I catch you out here again I will have to report you to your supervisor. Now get back to your work sector before the storm hits."

Cassie mock-saluted the man and leapt lightly onto the walkway beside the neat rows of houseboats in a residential waterway. Most of the high-rise buildings—or what was left of them—in the CBD were taken up with food production and training. With the exception of North Melbourne Marina where all the trade boats came in for business, the rest of the space was tightly packed and neatly stacked with residential houseboats or hydroponic garden barges with little canals between for movement. Despite the population restriction dictated by limited space, it seemed to Cassie like there were more residents all the time.

Hey, Dave. She stopped to watch an older man uncouple the extractor from the last houseboat in the street. The boards bounced gently under her feet. How did you get dunny duty again?

Swapped it for my perimeter duty; you know I hate it out there, it’s boring and I would be useless if it ever came to an actual raid. He grunted and hefted the coupling back into its cradle on the sewage barge. Sunlight glinted off his thick glasses.

I love it out there.

I am sure you do, Cass. All running and dancing in the sun, but no actual work, hey? Dave chuckled but she felt the judgement in his words.

First Vin and now Dave? Her slender shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. It’s not my fault there hasn’t been an attack in over a decade, but you can swap with me anytime, okay.

I’ll hold you to that, Cass. See ya. Oh and hey, happy birthday. Dave raised his arm to wave as the barge moved slowly around the corner into the next canal.

Yeah, another happy damn birthday. It’s still early, I could go