Zaharah pulled out her phone and tried to tap the email icon, but her shaking hand betrayed her. The messenger app came up instead, displaying her exchange with Pharahdox. She swore, held her breath until her lungs were on the cusp of bursting and tried again, with slower, precise taps. Email services are temporarily suspended at this time, her screen read.

Great. Dwight may have deleted the email, anyway. She paced back and forth in front of the lift, the salty wind whipping her braids around. Unless... the video was archived somewhere on her phone. She scrolled through her files, through pictures and documents and more pictures, and there it was, in the gallery, time stamped with the date it landed in her inbox.

Zaharah swallowed and pressed play. The scene was the same as the one in front of her. Same container, same garage with its beat up roof and shutters. The figures ran in and hid under the container. So they came from the east. She walked to the container and crouched, though she didn't know what she was looking for. Any evidence of people being under there wouldn't have lasted long in the salty wind.

Zaharah bit her lip and paced towards the garage, stopping at the spot where the Creeper pounced on the figure. On her? Its laser eyes burned through the back of her skull, spindly form looming over her, closing in for the kill.

She pinched herself. Control the things you can. "Skorpi, can you save this video for—"

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped so hard Skorpi had to pinch her hair to hang on.

Pharah retracted her hand and frowned, her brows knitted. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah." She smiled in a way she hoped was convincing, even with the twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Don't sneak up on me like that. I spook easily."

"I was trying to call you, but you weren't answering."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was used to being put on the spot by Markus and Jade. They knew when to back off. Or she knew how to get them to back off, rather. But Pharah was a wild card, standing there staring at her like she'd sprouted a horn. "I... I was just in my head. It's been a while since I've—"

"Been outside. Yes, you said that." Pharah's expression warped, her frown deepened and eyes took on a shimmery cast, a face Zaharah got from Demarkus and Jade, when they worried but didn't know how to approach her.

She saw it often early in her recovery, when she would have episodes in the middle of the night. And of course she never wanted to talk about. Forgetting they ever happened was easier. So she lied. Lied about being okay, about getting better. It made her feel dirty at first.

Like every other skill, the lying got easier with time; it slipped from her tongue as easily as a daily "Good Morning." But unlike every other skill, it was tricky as it had to be adjusted on a case-by-case basis. The way one lied to family may not work on a friend or a stranger.

Zaharah knew how to lie to Jade and Markus, not Pharah, so she settled for a half truth. "But by a while, I meant since the accident."

"Oh." Pharah bit her lip, eyes widening briefly, but the worried look didn't leave her face. "Are you sure you don't want to go back down?"

Zaharah nodded. "I'll be fine. It's weird, not uncomfortable. Did you guys find a good spot?" she asked before Pharah could interrogate her further.

"Yeah. This way." She led the way through the maze of containers to the northern edge of the shipyard. The sun ducked behind the tufts of clouds dotting the sky, and the air held the bite of mid-November. The wind weaving through the containers gave a low howl and brought the scent of salt and rot.

Zaharah always wondered if the ocean had always smelt this way, or if there was ever a cleaner, more refreshing scent. The saltiness had some kind of corruption to it, like someone had dumped a megaton of dry conch in the water.

At the northern tip of Denden, Roddi stood on a platform, fiddling with a tower viewer. A rail edged the drop-off at the end of the island, barring them from the fall into the black water. Shala walked on said rail, tail flicking back and forth as it sized up the deadly fall.

"Is it working?" Pharah asked.

"Yeah, but there's nothing to see." Roddi upped the brightness on the tower viewer's screen, and stepped away to reveal the image of an orange buoy floating on the water. Though, as Zaharah gazed out at the vast expanse of blue-black Atlantic, no orange buoy was in sight.

Pharah pouted. "I was hoping the 700 would be closer. We're not even past Cat Island yet. Why are we moving so slow?"

"Wait, we're moving?" Zaharah leaned over the rail and watched the black water slosh against the side of the island.

"Yeap. We have to anchor to the mainland ahead of the hurricane. Then we'll be in lockdown until it passes." She stepped down from the platform, into the shadow of a container.

Hurricanes passed them by as frequent as warm breezes, but since the islands moved, they dodged the worst of it. Still, civilians stayed indoors and Parliament shut down all non-essential services until the storm passed. But Denden experienced storms in a way Zaharah found strange. Unlike the mainland, she heard none of it. Not the roaring wind or the raging waters or the lashing wind.

While the hurricane passed, Denden remained in silence. Zaharah remembered the last one, from late summer last year. She, Markus and Jade had binged bad movies, while munching on as much fried food as they could make with their emergency rations. They'd fallen asleep on the couch and woken up to the all clear. A little anti-climactic, not that she enjoyed watching things fall apart. But there was a strange comfort in knowing what was going on outside.

Pharah checked her phone. "We have half an hour to eat, then we need to get back."

They sat in the shade of a container and broke out their lunches. Demarkus had packed her spring rolls stuffed with mushrooms, and fresh vegetables with some kind of goopy brown sauce on the side. The scent of ginger, peanuts and sesame wafted from the food. Jade probably asked for this, the fucking weeb.

A fruit container and her water canister took up the rest of the space in the bag. She popped the former and found slices of pineapple arranged in the shape of a swan. Demarkus never failed. Skorpi jumped down from her head and climbed into the bag like there was something in there for him and crawled under the water bottle.

"That looks good," Pharah said, nodding at the food. "I wish I still had an android caretaker, Mel was so good to me." She held a burger between her fingers, stuffed with what smelled like lamb and fresh greens.

"Demarkus is a gift." They ate in silence for a while, to the tune of the salty breeze and the occasional snicker from Roddi, who held his phone with one hand while the other scooped spoonfuls of fire engine into his mouth.

Zaharah nibbled on a pineapple slice and gazed out at the black water, almost as flat as glass. The same water that almost consumed her two years ago. The inky blackness had engulfed her and dragged her down, away from the orange fires glowing on the surface. She hadn't fought it, she couldn't. Her body couldn't move. She couldn't feel anything, not even the water filling her—

A sharp pain lanced through her hand and she looked down to see Skorpi with her finger in his pincer. She grimaced, caught between smacking the little vermin and thanking him for snapping her back to reality. He beeped what she imagined was a condescending "you're welcome" and disappeared back into her lunch bag.

"How long before we meet up with the 700?" she asked Pharah.

"A few days I guess. We were going to dock there later this year anyway." She leaned her head against the container. "Can't drift south on our own forever."

"What do you mean?"

"Denden isn't just... a home for lost children. It's also an experiment in sustainability. We're not completely self-sufficient yet. The Director is working hard to get us there, but we can safely stay away from the mainland for a few years."

Zaharah raised a brow. The Director hadn't told her any of this. Or maybe she did, and Zaharah had zoned out during that lecture. "So we're just a bunch of lab rats running around a maze?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "As far as experiments go, it could be worse."

They lapsed into silence again, and Zaharah forced herself to eat, though her appetite had disappeared. It would be a shame if Demarkus' hard work went to waste. The food was flavourful as always, he never skimped on the spices. She ate half of the rolls and fruit and promised herself to eat the rest on the way to the lab.

"Do you miss it?" Pharah asked, her voice nearly stolen by the wind. "Living on the mainland I mean."

Now it was her turn to shrug. "Yes and no. It's quieter here. I can take my classes at home. Focus on what in front of me, instead of what's behind me. But... there will be better opportunities for me and Jade there." The mainland held more reminders of her life before Denden—things she didn't want to think about. But it had been home for a long time, a good long time.

"I'm sure the Director would be willing to accommodate you and Jade for as long as you'd like. You don't have to rush into it."

Or try to fly me off to some fancy art school. Zaharah kept that thought to herself. "I know. But we can't keep leeching off her kindness forever."

Again, Pharah got that look, like there was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to ask. Instead the silence stretched between them for several beats, undercut by the whistling wind. "We should get back now. I don't want Isaac freaking out on us for being late." She rose and stretched her arms over her head in some kind of yoga pose. The sun bathed her left side, casting a golden halo around her form.

Zaharah got the urge to snap a picture with her phone for inspiration. But in keeping with societal norms she committed the image to memory instead. She fished Skorpi from her lunch bag and set him on her shoulder.

"Why don't we take Zaharah upstairs when we go back?" Roddi asked. "We could help Ty pickle all those goat peppers they harvested yesterday."

"If she's up to." Pharah smiled at her.

Pickling peppers sounded a lot better than being knee deep in goat shit. "Sure." They made the short walk back to the lift, the sun slanting their shadows against the containers. Warmth wafted up from the ground and radiated from the metal to cast the container labyrinth in a haze of heat that cancelled the chilly wind.

Zaharah kept her eyes on the ground when they walked by the garage, but a chill still climbed up her back and settled on her shoulders. Even she, who was notoriously bad at math, knew something wasn't adding up about this. As they piled into the lift she checked her phone again. Nothing from Dwight still. He'd get an earful from her later. Or half an ear, she didn't want to stress him out even more. Three more hours of chores, then she'd head over there. In the meantime, she shot a message to Jade.

Hey, got a minute?

Jade messaged back right away. Ye, I'm on lunch. What's up?

She bit her lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What's the last thing you remember about the accident? Like right before we came to Denden.

The message blue-ticked, indicating that Jade had read it, but she didn't type back right away. Zaharah could imagine her staring at her screen with eyebrows raised and mouth agape. It wasn't until they got back to the outskirts that Jade messaged back. Are you okay? Did something happen?

"Hey Roddi, you wanna drive?" Pharah asked.

"Sure." He hopped behind the wheel while she and Zaharah slid in back. They pulled away and cruised through the industrial area, the hum of the water pumps making the air vibrate.

Zaharah's leg shook as she read over Jade's message. Of course her sister would think something was wrong. She'd avoided talking about the accident every time Jade or Markus brought it up, even going so far as to snap at them on occasion. Eventually, they stopped asking, and only spoke about it if she brought it up first—which was almost never.

Just humour me this one time, please? Zaharah typed.

The dots jumped in the corner of the screen as Jade typed away. Time stretched and tugged at her anxiety. She didn't expect Jade to ease her worry, but she needed some answers—even if they weren't the ones she wanted—to get her through the rest of chore day without losing her mind.

After the first explosion, Quelle and I went to look for you, but the hallway to your room was on fire. We went down to the docking bays, and I remember there being only one pod. Quell pushed me inside. Then the second explosion hit. That's all I remember before waking up here.

No shipyard. No Creeper. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe Dwight told her the truth.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. All she had were maybes.

Thanks. I just wanted to know, she typed.

Any time sis.