‘Hey,’ I said, ‘they’re copying our idea of creating a distraction.’ It was hard not to be cross that everybody else seemed to be in on another escape plan which they hadn’t bothered to tell us about. I was happy to be treated like a child when it meant we got to write plays instead of gutting fish – but when it came to escape attempts, I felt like I had as much right to be included as anybody else. More, really, because I was younger and so would live longer than most of the adults on board. I’m not saying I felt like my life was more valuable than those of the adults – just that my survival was likely to be more useful for the human race than that of old people, because they were closer to death anyway.

‘Can you see Pete?’ asked James, standing on tiptoes. The Jellyfish started to correct itself, the mesoglea tilting down slowly, and the jelly rippling back underneath. Over on the right-hand side it was starting to rise again, its passengers lifting up, as spray from the churning tentacles misted over them.

We strained to see Pete, but it was another couple of long seconds before the Jellyfish was low enough again on his side. With a sudden, juddering lurch it fell and the jelly ripples started to wave out across the surface. There, about twenty metres away, two heads were visible in the open sea, powering through the water. Waves were breaking over them, and their legs were kicking wildly. Pete hadn’t had time to take his clothes off, and I could see the yellow of his jumper clearly through the water as he swam with all his might.

Soldier John’s distractions had worked. This was it: the furthest anybody had ever got.

Next to me, Kate gave a little sob.

They were no longer trying to remain invisible, speed was all, and they were splashing more than I’d seen anybody before. Pete was moving his arms so fast: first one, then the other. Go, go go!

‘Those dickheads are going to make it!’ said Lana. ‘Oh my god! Hurry up!’

Somehow the rest of the Jellyfish people had arrived round us, and somehow I was now standing on the edge. I think some people were shouting, but it felt like more an energy, an excitement. It was going to happen! They were going to do it!

Kate’s hand was in mine, Lana was grasping my shoulders. They were thirty metres away now, powering towards the cliffs, far, far away from the tentacles.

But then it came, that pink fork, rocketing through the water, with its slipstream of waves fizzing behind. It grabbed Pete, and then Stinky, ducking them under the water, before sucking them, and pulling them up into the air and back to us, with their backs arched and their arms flailing.

Chapter 9

9