Sarah did not remember much of the walk back to her flat, but she did remember Zenith and Beamer went with her though none spoke; such was her grief. Indeed, neither said much the rest of the day. There were no words. Out in the street were friendly shouts as people called to each other as they relaxed in the warmth of victory. Everyone seemed to have a flag to wave or had one hanging at the door of their homes; its colors splashed everywhere amongst the drab brown and red of the rock that made up Undersea.

In Sarah's flat she and her friends mourned and thoughts turned slowly in their minds like heavy burdens. What had happened exactly and how did it happen? But most of all it came to the biggest question of all: why? Why indeed.

Sarah tried to spend more time thinking about father and the memories she had of him. He had always been a deliberate man, slow to anger, although the move to Undersea had caused him great stress, and now this sorrow. Sarah tried to remember the reason for coming here to Undersea in the first place. Had it been for safety's sake? Sarah could't quite recall, nor could she recollect where they had first heard about Undersea. Had Sarah's family been contacted first and offered a chance to escape from what was happening above? Offered a new start and the promise of a better life? Was this a better life? Sarah seemed to remember that they had been recruited, or "reached out to" might be a better way of putting it. How ever it happened though, and whatever the arguments for and against, father and mother had said yes.

As far as Sarah could tell there was no going back. Only subs came and went any great distance from the city and few people ever traveled to the world above. Swimming to the surface was impossible, no citizen ever left the confines of Undersea, there was no need. Everything necessary was found in the city: Sir LaRosa had worked hard to make the lands above the waves irrelevent. Sarah felt trapped.

Sarah was sure things would have been much worse for her that day, the day she learned father was no more, had it not been for Zenith and Beamer. They stayed with her long into the evening and when Beamer had finally gotten up to leave Zenith made signs saying she was staying the night. Exhausted in her grief Sarah had given her a weak smile and went through the motions of getting ready for bed. In the dark of her room her hand happened to brush up against grandma's book as she crawled under the coverlet and it spurred Sarah's thoughts. Maybe Zenith was right, how could any of those writings be true? There was just so much suffering in the world. "Well, maybe I am called to help alleviate suffering?" was the thought Sarah had as she drifted off. But Sarah was sure she was not strong enough to make any difference. Certainly not here, not with these giants in the land. She was but a grasshopper.

That night Sarah had the dream again, the second time in three days. What relationship the dream had with the waking world Sarah could not say. What separates the possible reality of one dream with the benign platitudes of another Sarah did not know. "Time would tell," she thought later, for not all dreams are created equal. But this one felt different and not because Sarah wanted it to be true.

In the dream Sarah stood, legs rooted to the stones of Undersea. In the distance walls of dark water gathered and though Sarah wanted to shout a warning she could not. The earth shook. As the flood approached she found she could cry but one word. "Help!" Later she would think that that must have been what it was like in Mawdeep when the subs of Undersea torpedoed it's enterance. Those special weapons Sir LaRosa expounded upon in his speeches during the week of the war: torpedoes that could bore holes in thick rock and deliver huge payloads to the most vital of areas. Weakened rock then buckled under the pressure of the water and waves rushed in to swallow the city. It was horrific to think on.

On came that dark surging water in Sarah's dream. Wide-eyed Sarah faced it, and there was nothing else to be done.

"When you walk through the waters..." said a voice above them.

"When I walk through the waters what?" thought Sarah as the sweeping torrent crested and plunged down upon her like foaming wine poured from a great goblet.

Sarah went under. The dream continued and now she was in a dim twilight country where all sounds were muffled. Her movements where like jelly, for she found she could walk only with much effort. Large figures stood before her and Sarah eyed them with cool indiffenece: she was not afraid of them but they held great power. Lightning flashed from their hands; many others were driven before them and Sarah was caught up in the exodus of people. They were driven until they came up against a wall; tall and dark, solid as stone. There Sarah turned standing against her pursuers, and their lightning crackled about her like whips, but their fire could not touch her. The longer she stood the stouter she became, yet the closer the dark figures circled, and she knew that stout though she was she could not hold forever. She went to her knees as they came on, now swarming to her in that dark world, and then things went silent and she shook.

Zenith was shaking Sarah as she woke.

"Your dream again Sarah," she said with concern, "you were screaming."

"Was I?" said Sarah, rubbing a hand across her tired eyes as if trying to scrub them of sleep and terror. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to six," said Zenith, "I'll find us some breakfast."

As Sarah lay in her bed the events of the previous day came back to her like a flood. Her father was dead and no one would ever know but her and few others. Grandma was gone. Sarah knew that too. Mother and Jack were...well, she'd rather not think about that. She had Zenith and Beamer and they were good friends, the closest people she now had. But what if they were somehow taken from her also, what would she have then? It did not take much to be able to imagine it, such were the happenings of her life to that point. As she floundered in the dark melancholy of such thoughts she recalled the lyrics to a song heard in the above world when she was young. An old record player had played it in the crowded cottage by the sea shore long ago.

"When the truth is found, to beeee lies."

Sarah could hear it even now.

"And all the joy, in you dies,

Don't you want somebody to love?

Don't you need somebody to love?

Wouldn't you love somebody to love?

You better find somebody to love..."

"Yes," thought Sarah, "Somebody to love," looking around her room as if for somebody to love. "Someone who won't leave me, someone who won't die, someone who will save me in this city. I am so tired, just so tired." And she felt like screaming. Her eyes fell on grandma's old book and narrowed. With a scowl she swatted it off her nightstand and it clattered to the floor. Papers flew from it and a loose sheet of paper, real paper, not the kelp variety, drifted up, up and settled before her on her bed. There was hand writing on it, grandma's hand writing. (Grandma had kept many hand written notes on loose sheets tucked between the pages of the book). A hardened Sarah picked it up.

"From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher then I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against my foe. I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings."

"Breakfast is ready," said Zenith poking her head into Sarah's bedroom. "Are you okay?" she asked, eyeing grandma's book all disheveled on the floor.

Sarah closed her eyes and breathed a deep breath, the stuffy air in Undersea a far cry from air in the above world. She sighed and picked up grandma's book; tidying it and placing it under her pillow. "Yes, I'm okay, I think. Now. I just-I threw a little, well, tantrum..." She breathed another deep breath. Zenith gave her a hug.

"Things will get better Sarah," said Zenith, "they've just got to."

As they ate breakfast there was a knock at the front door.

"Come in Beamer!" yelled Sarah, "you know you don't have to knock!" Sarah smiled a little, anticipating Beamer's bounding energy to come sailing in though the doorway accompanied by that ravenous appetite of his.

There was another knock at the door, and another. Sarah and Zenith exchanged looks.

"Hello?" said Sarah loudly getting up to go see who it was. It was a Mariner Patrol captain flanked by two of his men.

"Yes?" said Sarah swallowing hard.

"Are you Sarah?" asked the captain stepping into the flat.

"I am," said Sarah stepping back.

"You have five minutes," he said tossing her an empty sack. Sarah just managed to catch it.

"Five minutes," Sarah repeated carefully, "Five minutes...until what?"

"Five minutes until you come with us, permanently," said the captain, and his men entered the flat and began to toss the place. There was not much to toss.

"Who is she?" demanded the captain when he saw a petrified Zenith standing in the kitchen with her back pressed against a wall.

"That's my friend," said Sarah balling her fists and squaring up to the captain, "and you will not touch her!"

The captain let out a low chuckle and with a smile whistled for his men. They came out of Sarah's room.

"Escort Sarah's friend off the premises. Be sure to get her name as well," he said.

"Come with me miss," said one of the men taking Zenith by the arm and hustling her out.

"You've got four minutes," said the captain to Sarah, nodding at the sack in her hands.

Bewildered and on the verge of tears Sarah took the sack and went into her bedroom thinking about Zenith. Some items lay about from the partial sacking of the flat by the Mariner Patrol but her pillow was untouched. Sarah tossed grandma's book into her sack and stuffed as many clothes and things on top as she could.

"You won't need all that where you're going," said the captain from the bedroom door when he saw her stuff in more clothes.

"And where is that exactly?" said Sarah turning towards him, an edge to her voice.

"Two minutes," said the captain with a smile.

Sarah marched passed him chin up, slinging her sack over her shoulder like a vagabond. "I've always felt like a stranger in a strange land," she muttered as she went into the front room. She picked up the framed picture of grandma that had fallen to the floor and removed it from behind broken glass. She stuffed the photo into the top of her sack.

"You don't know how lucky you are," said the captain following her, "no more Old City for you." He looked around the sparse apartment with a trace of disdain.

"Feel free to enlighten me," said Sarah leveling her eyes at him.

"Thirty seconds," he said with a smile as if relishing the power in those words. Sarah stood arms crossed. "Time to go," he said clearing his throat, motioning his men.

"For the hundredth time where?" said Sarah not freeing him from her gaze.

"You will see."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You will see," he repeated and with a Mariner Patrolman on either side they escorted her into the street. Sarah caught a glimpse of Zenith lingering near a light pole not far off but they turned Sarah towards a waiting vehicle.

"Am I really so dangerous?" Sarah was saying, but then she noticed the vehicle in front of her.

"Didn't I tell you you were lucky?" laughed the captain as he opened a side door for Sarah.

It was not the standard Mariner Patrol vehicle that was taking Sarah to wherever she was going. What stood before her on the street was luxury: smooth lines and polished wheel caps glistened in the lamps of Undersea. The vehicle (to few had a vehicle in Undersea) was privately owned, quite a perk, and there were no markings of public office or department on it. There were chrome fittings shinning spotless on the runner boards and on the bonnet of the car was a small polished trident affixed like a hood orniment. The windows were heavily tinted, the black body sleek and clean.

"Yep, she's top o' the line," the captain was saying as Sarah backed into the dim interior, pulling her vagabond sack after her. The captain dismissed his men and sank into the plush red upholstery beside Sarah with a luxurious sigh.

"Ready," he said to the driver.

Sarah busied herself trying to arrange her bulky bag the best she could. She ended up wrapping her arms around it in a sort of hugging embrace, chin resting upon it. As she sat she realized someone was seated not far to her right. Sarah tensed.

"Hello Sarah," said a voice.

Color drained from Sarah's face and she slumped forward burying her head in the pack she hugged in front of her.  Silent tears flowed into the fabric. "Hello mother," she whispered.