Undersea

Prologue

Sarah waited on the shore of the sun-soaked sea ready to meet it. In the surf that foamed gold at her feet she stood, her curled toes dug into the sand like roots. She looked hard at the clear horizon searching. There was nothing. Wave upon wave surged and broke. Where those ponderous waves came from Sarah could not say; she doubted if even her grandma knew. Maybe the waves came from Undersea?

Before her eyes the westering sun turned red, and with it the water, deep in color as blood. In her tanned arms was a thin teddy bear missing a button eye and she hugged it close, for she was not to young to know what the sea could do. A breeze lifted the child's tangled hair into her eyes. She brushed them clear to take one last look and hoped she would remember what she saw in the years to come. The child clutched the bear tighter and climbed over the dunes to the large boarded up cottage where her family and many others lived. Her mother was waiting.

"There you are Sarah, I was beginning to worry! Come pack your things and be quick about it!"

Sarah knew there was little for her to pack and her mother knew it too. Sarah sighed. Bossiness was just mother's way of handling the stress. Sarah wound her way to the back of the cottage, to the room where her family lived, passing her grandma who sat worrying on a cramped chair. Sarah paused. She reached out and squeezed one of grandma's hands.

"...whatever my lot. Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say..." murmured grandma with a gaze that traveled beyond the walls of the house.

Sarah went to the back of their room and crawled under a metal desk piled high with things that were now of little use. Her thin mat, pillow, blanket, and battered box of prized possessions where easy enough to find the dim light, but she would not need them where she was going. She did want to remember however what had been her home for all her short life, so she dumped out her cardboard box of treasures. She found her old flashlight and flicked it on. It was not a strong; batteries where hard to come by. She did not know if she needed a flashlight where she was going, but decided that was something grownups would take care of.

Sarah spread the contents of her box on the mat and rubbed her chin like father did when he made a trade. There was a funny-looking piece of driftwood, a few bits of bright sea glass, and some pretty purple shells, the largest of which could be held to her ear to hear the ocean. She contemplated and put the shells on the "do not take" pile. Hearing the waves would not be a problem when they moved she reasoned. There was a large marble, however, with mesmerizing swirls of green and blue that she loved to look at. This she pocketed. The driftwood might be fun to take, but it was a little bulky. Her teddy bear was going, that was a deal breaker.

With a final look around Sarah felt okay with her decisions. She did want to take her blanket, it had been made special for her by grandma out of old bits of cloth, but she did not know if it would be allowed. Three things would be quite a lot to take, she thought, but if no one knew she had the marble, it would only be two things...

Satisfied with her decisions Sarah gathered up the blanket, clutched her teddy bear, and crawled from under the desk. She hoped she would have more space where she was going. She looked around the room where her family lived and hoped they all would have more space where they were going.

Sarah stepped into a tight hallway passing by where the Fosters lived in a side room, by where the Roswells resided in the living room, and into the kitchen; the de facto meeting place. Sarah wove her way through the forest of grownup's legs to her mother's skirt and looked up. Mother looked down, forced a smile, and tried to smooth Sarah's hair with her scarred hands. Around them buzzed the whispered webs of uneasy conversations. "At last, at last!" murmured some, for indeed this day was long in coming; made all the more urgent as the world burned. Sarah wrapped her arms around mother's knees.

The room waited. A knock on the door was coming, a signal of hope, and they were to be ready. Sarah's mother held Sarah to her and tried to hum a tune that had put Sarah to sleep on many occasions. Near them was father and close by was grandma holding baby Jack, rocking him back and forth, back and forth, like the waves on the shore.

The conversations stopped when the boarded screen door squeaked open and slapped shut. It was Mr. Roswell who had been on the porch.

"They're here," he said.

A man in black, his face covered, stepped into the room.

"Okay folks," he said in an accent they could not quite place, "this is it. Gather outside in family groups as per your instructions."

Everyone filed out onto the sand where more men in black waited, faces covered. Outside no one spoke, and in the silence all could hear the whisper of waves beyond the dunes.

"Okay you first," said the lead man at last, motioning to Sarah's family.

They went over the dunes to the beach where a large inflated dinghy waited. The men helped Sarah's family into the boat and started the motor.

"Hold tight," someone shouted. Father was holding baby Jack now, grandma clutched at a hand hold inside the boat. Sarah's mother held onto Sarah.

They gunned it for deeper waters, towards a long cigar-shaped object, and were taken aboard. Others were soon brought, and when no more would be saved engines hummed to life. Soon they left the waves behind. Down they sank to that safe haven waiting far below; a city of light far from what burned above. They where going to Undersea at last.

As they sat aboard the sub grandma's sad eyes stayed fixed on the floor and she grimaced in a way Sarah could not understand.

"Undersea," Sarah said to herself glancing away, marveling that there could be such a place. She smiled and thought of what wonders might await her. Sarah hugged her one-eyed teddy bear and never heard the waves again.