Zaharah gave to pod bay a quick sweeping look to make sure they weren't leaving anything or anyone behind—besides their vandalism, of course—and slammed to boot of the pod shut. The pods here were larger, the size of a sedan. Devin half sat, half lied in the back while Jade rode shotgun with Skorpi. Pharah and Roddi stood off to the side as they had the entire time she and Jade were packing up.

"Last chance," Zaharah said and looked at each of them, but they didn't meet her gaze.

Their eyes roamed from the pod to the floor and back again. Zaharah understood their apprehension. Even standing there, with a clear way out, she herself wasn't ready to take this step, even with the danger looming over her head. It may be unsafe here in Denden, but there could be worse waiting for them on the mainland.

Roddi exhaled a long breath through his nose, then climbed in the pod next to Devin. And all eyes turned to Pharah, who stood with her hands clasped together so tightly, her arms shook. Of them all, she had the most to lose—a budding career on the cusp of blooming. Fans who'll be left in limbo while she jumpstarted a new life with faulty cables.

"No one will judge you for staying," Roddi said. "Just take care of yourself, alright?"

Pharah's shoulders rose and bunched together near her neck. "I..." She sucked in a shaking breath. "I'm not staying." She took mechanical steps towards the pod and slid in on the other side of her brother.

Devin threw an arm over her shoulder. "You'll be alright, sis."

"We'll all be." Zaharah jumped in the driver's seat and hit the button on the panel to start their launch. With what little time they had left, she needed to get them as far away from Denden as possible. "It might get rough out there, so buckle up."

The pod eased back away from its chamber and she grabbed the throttle with one hand and the wheel with the other, her grip sure. She wouldn't fuck up this time. No one else was allowed to die, not under her watch. She'd get them all to the mainland.

Light poured in through the pod's lid as their escape opened, and Zaharah looked back at everyone. "Hang on." The pod halted for half a second, then shot into the black water with a gurgling whoosh. Zaharah locked the wheel to the right, hit the throttle hard, and the pod spun on a dime before it even surfaced. Too much of that would destroy the engines. Pods weren't made to operate like submarines, but dire circumstances called for dire action.

She pushed the pod hard through the dark water, engines keening from the effort. By the time they popped over the surface, she'd already put considerable distance between the pod and Denden. She glimpsed her rear camera, and her eyes locked on The Director who stood atop the east wing flanked by two creepers. Not the little ones from before, the big ones Zaharah saw in her most recent nightmares.

"Shit," Roddi breathed, articulating her thoughts.

"We just need to get close to the harbour." She veered to the left, nigh turning the pod on its side and arched around the east wing. "Put your heads down."

Gunfire popped like bangers over the hum of the engine, and tiny splashes erupted in the surrounding water. Her heart quickened, but she gritted her teeth and steeled her nerves to keep her composure. Too many lives depended on her not fucking up. She pulled throttle back and locked the wheel in the other direction, taking them on a serpentine path away from Denden.

Metallic pangs filled the cabin, and bullets buffeted the pod. Zaharah gripped the controls tighter to stop her hands from shaking and pushed the pod as fast as it would go. Denden shrunk behind them and the gunfire faded like a bad dream.

"Everyone okay?" Zaharah asked. She looked into the backseat camera in time to see Devin give a shaky thumbs up.

"We're good back here," Roddi replied.

Shala popped his head up. "Speak for yourself human. That was more than my heart could take."

Zaharah rolled her eyes and looked over to her sister, who gave her a smile and a nod. "I think the worst of it is behind us." She set her attention on the way ahead.

To the north, the 700 rose from the horizon, the sharp tops of its skyline piercing the heavens—a scene she painted and pencilled and markered onto canvas many times over. Yet, no matter how many times she saw it or drew it, it left Zaharah both humbled and in awe. And if the silence in the pod was any indication, everyone else felt it too.

When the waters of the Atlantic rose and consumed the coastal communities Bahamians of yesteryear called home, and when the hurricanes raged too fiercely for the stilt cities to bear, the 700 became a bastion of hope. Their home that sat at the intersection of scientific and technological advancement, and their vibrant culture.

The pod skipped over the waves, past sailboats with sails like pillowy clouds and yachts gliding over the black water like swans. Zaharah took them around the Southern marina to the west side of the 700.

"Where can we go?" Roddi asked.

"I know a place." Hopefully, she added in her head. A lot could've changed in two years. Or nothing could've changed at all. Such was the nature of the 700. You could wake up one day and find a new green space erected near your house. Or live in the same place your whole life, with the same view, same people.

Their top priority was getting Devin to a hospital. "Jade, can you try to contact emergency services?" Zaharah asked.

Jade shook her head. My phone won't connect to the network here.

"Goddamnit." She'd forgotten Denden operated on a different system. Their phones wouldn't work here. "What about satellite services?"

I can only use the GPS with that.

"We just have to hurry then." Zaharah pushed the throttle all the way and took them full speed through the harbour. Still, it took them over half an hour to get to the only safe place she knew of.

Off the west side of the mainland was the cruise port, with sleek ships the size of Denden lined off. She sailed past it to the back side of the boardwalk and scanned the outer wall. The Lookout, as her old team had called it. A disgusting and probably disease-ridden hangout. It was a remnant of the past, left over from before the cruise port was moved to this side of the 700.

An old docking station sat atop the water, its jetties sticking out into the water like the rusted tines of a fork, and beyond it were steps leading up to the hole. Zaharah pulled the pod between two tines and set it to idle. "Alright, this is where we get off. We need to trash this pod. You guys empty the boot while I try to figure out where to send it."

"Cool." Roddi and Jade jumped out onto the platform and she popped open the boot.

Zaharah scrolled through to command options on the control panel, searching for the autopilot. In her peripheral, she spotted Pharah still in the back seat with her brother. "You need help with Devin, just Pharah?" When no answer came from the back seat, she spun around.

Pharah sat stock still, Devin's arm still over her shoulder. His eyes were closed, face and body still, and Zaharah stared at him for a long time, willing him to breathe, to wake up. Blood soaked the front of his clothes from the armpits of his shirt down to the middle of his jeans, obscuring the turquoise Pharahdox logos.

"Oh no..." Zaharah breathed. She pressed her forehead against the seat, and bit her lip to stop herself from screaming. Don't make promises you can't keep, her mother would say. She swore. Too late. All that trouble, all the effort speeding over here and they were still too late.

"We're done back—" Roddi looked in to the pod, and his eyes went wide. "Devin?" He leaned over the back and pressed a hand to Devin's neck, then retracted it as though he'd touched fire. "No, he's not..." He stumbled back and Jade caught him before he could fall on his rear. "Fuck..."

Jade locked eyes with Zaharah, and her hands shook as she signed. What should we do?

Zaharah once again felt as though she was being pulled in two directions. She wanted to give Pharah time to grieve, but they couldn't stay here. The Director could have reported them to the authorities already.

"We need to go. Now." The words came out dry and hoarse after traversing the dry desert of her throat, and she couldn't look at Pharah as she said them. "The longer we stay here, the higher the chance we'll be found."

A hiccup came from the back of the pod. "But... Devin."

Zaharah bit back a swear. Why did she have to be the one to make these decisions? "We're already wanted fugitives. Walking around the 700 with him will..." She bit her lip. "I'm so sorry, Pharah."

"We can't just leave him here!" The hot edge in Pharah's voice cut deep into Zaharah. She didn't know what else to say. Her mind went back two years, when she was sitting in the pod, begging Quelle not to send them away. She remembered the burning urge in her chest to get back on the Hurakan and not leave until they'd found mom and the twins. If anyone could empathise with not wanting to leave family behind, it was her. But patronising words wouldn't ease the edge of loss and wouldn't get them to safety either.

"Pharah." Roddi's voice cut into her thoughts and dragged her back to the present. "I don't want to leave him either, but Zaharah's right. We can't carry him."

Zaharah looked at Pharah holding her brother in the back seat camera, face buried in his hair, tears leaving streaks on her face and dripping from her chin. She'd came close to losing Jade back there in Denden. If Elliot had... She dashed the thought away before it could settle in her mind.

"I'll give you a minute." She hopped out and settled on the steps leading to the lookout before burying her face in her hands. They still held small splotches of Devin's blood. A shadow fell over her a moment later, and she didn't need to look up to know it was Jade. "I hate this."

Her sister put a hand on her shoulder and shook her until she met her gaze. Devin didn't let me blame myself. You're not allowed to blame yourself either. The Director pulled the trigger, not you.

"Right, right." Zaharah rubbed her hands against her pants and looked at the sky. The muggy air bore down on her, carrying the salty stink of the Atlantic mixed with the metallic tang of rust. With Denden being built as an indoor facility, they didn't have to endure the elements. But they didn't get to see the sky either. After two years inside, the vast expanse of blue instead of vents and HID lamps seemed foreign.

Zaharah stroked the knife in her pocket and looked back to the pod as Pharah climbed out. She still hadn't decided where to send it, and if they were leaving Devin, it couldn't be too far, because they had to come back for him. Pharah deserved to bury her brother, deserved closure after this hellish day.

There had to be a place where she could stash the pod, and find it later, a place where no one would bother it. She bit her lip and swept her eyes from the east to the north to where the waves grew calmer, lazier, "I have an idea." She fished out her phone and linked it to the satellite service. "Years ago, Quelle showed Jade and I this swampy area off the north side. A lot of driftwood and debris would gather there because of the stagnant water." She jumped back in the pod and stuck her phone in the console, swapped the controls to autopilot, and mapped out a course on the GPS.

"So if you send the pod there..." Roddi said.

"We'll be able to find it later. I'm leaving my phone in there for insurance." Zaharah backed out of the pod and closed the lid. "We'll come back for him." She was far from Devin's biggest fan, but he deserved better than this.

The pod backed out of the old dock and zoomed towards the northern horizon, sunlight glinting off its black surface. Zaharah put a hand on Pharah's back, the only comfort she could offer. "We need to go."

Pharah stood stock still until Zaharah coaxed her toward the steps. Her movements were stiff, zombie-like, and she kept her gaze on the ground, soft sniffles escaping her every other moment. She was holding her composure, Zaharah could tell, because she'd seen herself do the same thing too many times to count. And she knew, the moment Pharah got a bit of privacy, she'd break down. The dam could only hold for so long.

Zaharah walked alongside her, kept the comforting hand on her back, her eyes occasionally drifting towards the water. The pod had disappeared over the north horizon, out of sight, and while she was the least religious person she knew, she sent up a prayer to whatever forces guided the hands of fate that the pod wouldn't become Devin's coffin.