Finding Nemo: A Thriller

Chapter eighteen

The water was up to Marlin's chest now. Dory had only her neck out, and was busy fishing for bits of metal.

"This is insane, Dory!" He yelled over the crashing of the water. It was growing deeper and faster by the minute, and soon Marlin had to stand on his toes to keep his head above it.

"It isn't rocket science!" She shouted back. "Those Welsh men thought this would drown us, but the tide is actually helping us escape."

Marlin dove down to fetch a sharp knife from the bottom of the pit. He came up, sputtering.

"How does drowning help us?"

"Once the water rises all the way to the metal grate, we can get up high enough to pry it open."

Marlin could no longer stand at the bottom, and had to tread water. "And if we can't?"

Dory looked at him, struggling to keep her head above water. "This is why we're gathering all this metal. To pry it open."

Marlin swam over to her, something in the water grazing his leg. He bit his lip and grabbed the wound.

"What are you making?"

Dory held up a long metal tool. "I don't know, actually. Let's just hope it's enough." She shouted.

Marlin's head suddenly hit something— the metal bars.

"Hurry!" He screamed at Dory, who started digging her tool into the grate.

The water was dumping on Marlin's head, splashing into his throat, choking him. He grabbed Dory's tool and pushed with her, gagging in the salty water.

Finally, the sea consumed them, leaving them in complete water. They kept pushing, pushing, until finally it broke loose. The rusted iron scraped against their faces and pushed Marlin down into the water.

With his lungs full of water and body scraped from head to toe, he frantically kicked upward, keeping his eyes on the opening above him. He could just make out Dory's figure swimming through the hole.

With his chest burning, he made it to the surface and shot out of the water. Heaving himself out of the hole, he flopped onto his back and laid in the two-inch deep water. The sand swirled around in his hair and the waves had calmed to gentle currents that washed over his body.

"You're a genius, Dory," He said after hacking up a gallon of salt.

"Don't make a move," She hissed from behind him. "They're watching us."

"Wha—" He started, but she kicked him in the leg.

Lifting his head from the sand, he got his answer.

Thousands of parachutes were floating soundlessly through the air, mere shadows in the hazy darkness. There was one thing he could make out, though, and that was the eerie tooth insignia printed on them.

"Couldn't something normal happen just once during this trip?" He murmured. 

Hi, everyone! So decided to give you a little sneak peak to the next book I might write, so please let me know if you would like me to post it! It isn't a retelling or anything, but an original story. It's kind of set in a futuristic but Victorian style world, with a corrupt government and all. Just so you know, this is more of a prologue, so the characters are more in their late teens for most of the book. Hope you guys enjoy it! 

        Her Heart of Steel

The city square. That was the first time I had seen her. A tiny brown figure among the feathers, frills, and top hats. She stood several paces from me, frozen in time, watching me like a cat watches a mouse.

Saturdays were the busiest in the square, every Heathwood citizen either selling or shopping for everything from paper fans to android parts to a new parasol.

A twenty-foot wide screen was mounted on a pole for the whole city to see, President Briggs smiling regally down at us. She was, as always, the image of composure and royalty, her silver hair perfectly straightened. Flags of purple and silver decorated every building and every corner, reading The Modern Democracy of New America. The usual insignia of a woman cradling a baby was printed on them all, representing the care and love the Democracy has for its citizens.

After watching a sunlight-powered train go around in circles at a toy booth, I turned to go back to my mother. The ocean of bodies had filled in the space between us, and she was nowhere to be seen.

My eyes started burning, the sting I felt often. I knew I couldn't cry—I was nearly twelve, so I sniffed, turned, and caught sight of that odd creature.

She was a skinny little thing, probably a year older than me, with long, mousy hair knotted into a braid. She wore a tattered brown dress and black boots too big. Everything about her was plain and dull, except for her eyes. Those black, shining things could burn a hole through steel.

She stared at me for a beat longer before extending her finger, beckoning me forward. I hesitantly forced my legs to start moving and was soon less than three feet away from her.

"Hello," Her tone was conversational, but the glimmering eyes suggested something darker. "You have lost your mother, am I correct?"

"Maybe," I decided on reflecting her own casual style, knowing perfectly well I wasn't one to feel comfortable with a stranger. Well, anyone in fact. "Have you?"

"Yes, actually. A long time ago. I don't care, she told me I was bred to kill." If possible, her eyes grew darker and she crossed bony arms over her flat chest.

I was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. I wanted to say something to match the girl's smug manner, but all that came out was, "Uh-kay."

"Uh-kay indeed. I'm assuming I had to kill my father. That's why they took me away. But I can't tell you who is caring for me now."

"Oh,"

"What is wrong with you?" She squinted at me like a confusing new insect.

"Er.... no," I replied, which sounded very stupid indeed. I cleared my throat and straightened my coat.

"Well, I find you a stupid boy." She said bluntly.

Before I could say anything back, there was call from the distance.

She spun around and huffed angrily. Turning back to me, she said in a whisper that I had to step closer to hear. Her breath smelled of bitter hot cocoa. "They're all lying, Lucas Whitlock. Don't trust them."

And before I could ask how she knew my name, there was my mother, ushering me away and complaining about how busy Saturdays were. As I stumbled after her heavy skirt, I glanced back and the girl was gone.