I rushed outside, Iris and Seth and Dillon on my heels.
I hardly dared believe it. The location device . . . it must have clicked on when it hit the water. It worked! It actually worked! High above us, blinding lights blasted their way through the storm, then merged with the light from camp.
“Clear the landing zone,” a strong female voice boomed, echoing through loudspeakers.
I staggered back as dust whipped up in the swirling wind. Up close, the propellers were so loud you couldn’t even hear the Darkness.
The top of the airship looked like a helicopter with rotor blades whirring round and round, but the bottom was a kind of balloon boat, with two great legs on either side to land securely. Across the side, stenciled letters read: ICARUS 1—NEW LONDON.
“No!” cried the Marshal, behind us. “No—what are you doing?”
“Marshal Davenport,” crackled the voice through the speaker, “you are under arrest. Remain where you are and do not resist.”
A ramp lowered, thudding at our feet. A squad of LRP officers hustled down to detain the Marshal before he could run away. He cried out, punching and flailing, trying to fight his way free.
“I insist you let me go,” he spat. “Let me go this instant!”
They dragged him onto the ship. A woman appeared on the ramp, a leather jacket over her dress, and a pair of dusty-looking aviator goggles strapped to her forehead. Another group of LRP officers followed her down and started speaking to the rest of our camp, explaining what was happening and helping them on board the ship.
“We’ve been looking for you for a long time. I’m Vanessa,” she said. “Mayor of New London. How would you like to see the City?”
“The C-City?” I stammered. “I . . . I thought the City was destroyed?”
Had the Marshal been lying to us again?
“Oh, it was,” Vanessa said. Her smile faltered. “We only managed three rescue trips before the eastern lights failed. The people rioted, trying to get on board. As soon as one light smashed, the Darkness found a way in. By the time we got back for the fourth group of evacuees, it was a wasteland. But we’re building a new one,” she said, tapping the hull of the ship proudly. “New London. We found out your camp was alive when we saw the security footage of Marshal Davenport discovering the City ruins. He was never supposed to be on board Icarus 3, so we knew he had to be up to something sinister.”
Suddenly I stopped walking along the deck of the ship. I squinted into the distance, something flickering in the back of my mind. Jack’s thoughts exploded and danced.
“Vanessa,” I said. “The people you rescued—the ones from the City . . .”
“Families of the Icarus crews had priority boarding,” she said, the smile returning to her face now. “Follow me. There are some people who have been dying to see you. It was impossible to turn them away when we saw the sonar.”
Footsteps thudded on the wooden decking. An explosion of voices rang out.
“Iris!” someone called. “Iris, over here!”
“Seth, buddy!”
A crowd of people ran toward us. I knew they were the mums and dads, the brothers and sisters of everyone in our camp. I watched Dillon work his way tentatively across the railing, looking for his family. When they saw him, his parents rushed over and dragged him into a giant bear hug. I laughed, an odd mixture of feelings wrapping round each other inside me. We’d done it. We’d beaten the Darkness. We’d beaten the Marshal.
“Jack!” a voice called, and I recognized it at once.
It was the same one I’d heard days earlier, on the radio.
“Jack, my son!”
Jack’s dad skidded on the wooden planks in his haste to make it over to me. His brother, Ayden, was right behind him. I ran toward them, happiness soaring inside me. I let my thoughts, the ones belonging to plain old Owen Smith, retreat back into the fog. This was Jack’s moment.
We collided, all three of us, hugging each other tight.
“You’re alive,” they said. “Oh, I can’t believe it. You’re alive!”
As the airship wobbled up and up and up into the air, I pulled myself away from Jack’s family and saw Iris. I held my little fingers to the corners of my lips and let out a long whistle. She looked up, her cheeks shining, and ran over to me, hugging me just as tightly as Jack’s dad had.
“We did it,” I said.
“You did it,” she said. “If it wasn’t for you, we’d still be back there.” She pulled away, her eyes still wet with tears. “Seriously, thanks . . . Owen,” she added, so only I could hear.
I looked around at Seth, Iris, and Dillon, and the family Jack would be living with as they built New London together. I couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have them all here.
Any second now I’d feel the tug, and there wouldn’t be any more story. It would just be me and Dad. But he needed me. And, I realized, as we flew higher and higher and the story started to break apart at the edges, I needed him too.