Oceania: The Underwater City by Eliza Taye (novels for teenagers .TXT) 📕

Making my way towards the water, the boardwalk ended and burning sand greeted my thinly covered feet. Bouncing from one foot to another to keep my feet from being scorched, I found a sign about twenty feet from the edge of the water inscribed with the words: Keep Off the Beach—Radiation and Toxicity Danger.

Puzzled, I backed away and returned to the boardwalk. Sitting down at the edge, carefully tucking my feet beneath me to rescue them from the molten sand, I checked in either direction for other people, but saw no one. Turning my gaze towards the beach, I stared at the harmless-looking surf. The blue water morphed into white as the crashing waves washed onto the beach and then retreated out. The calm, serene beauty of it reminded me of my former home in San Antonio, bringing up nostalgia I had been trying to resist for the past year.

I watched the waves from a distance until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Standing up, I took out my omniphone and swept my fingertips across it to unlock the screen using my fingerprints. The screen flashed to life and I quickly connected to the Network. Earnestly, I typed in my question: What disaster occurred in Sunnyville, California that caused toxicity and radiation?

Within a couple milliseconds, an answer popped up. According to the website, a nuclear disaster involving the Navy occurred nearly 150 years ago. I let out a puff of air in annoyance. One hundred and fifty years! No way could it still be a danger!

The rhythmic thudding of high-heels on the boardwalk alerted me to someone coming. I snapped my head up to see a bleach-blonde-haired woman heading my way with a tote bag dangling off her arm.

“Hello,” she greeted, nodding as she passed by.

“Hello,” I greeted back with a forced smile.

I was going to go into the ocean. No way would I waste my entire summer holed up in my grandmother’s ancient low-tech house playing board games specifically designed for the elderly.

Realizing the blatant impossibility of enjoying myself near downtown, I took off jogging back towards the road. I followed it north along the beach, always keeping the ocean in my peripheral line of sight. Isolated houses passed by on my right-hand side, but mostly it was nothing but empty fields.

Traveling up and down hills beside the edges of steep cliffs, I finally came to a plateau about three or so miles outside of town. Sweating profusely in the nearly one-hundred-degree heat, I paused to breathe in deeply, shielding my eyes as I peered up to curse the bright sun for its unbearable warmth.

Regaining focus and leaving the road behind, I pushed through the overgrown bushes to strike out on my own. Once I left and began making my way toward the sea, I found my path impeded by a large chain-link fence. The infuriating obstacle surrounded the entire section of the beach. On it, a sign read, “United States Navy Training Beach, No Civilians Allowed.” Obviously, based on the large fence surrounding the area, no one was allowed in, which seemed absurd since the Navy was long gone.

Unperturbed, I searched for a way inside, possibly a hole where I could slip into the restricted area. About a hundred yards to the south, I discovered an opening just large enough that I might be able to slide under without touching the wire. I paused for a second. What if it was electrified?

Convincing myself there was only a slim chance the fence was electrified, and even if it was, the power for it would have run out long ago, I crouched down and examined the opening. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, I lay down and slid gingerly on the rough sand. Nearly halfway through, a piece of jagged wire hooked into both my tank top and jean shorts.

Frozen, I waited for the electrical shock of my life. When it didn’t happen, I sighed in relief and quickly continued through, standing up on the other side.

I had made it. I now had my own private beach.

Relishing in the freedom, I dashed toward the waves and felt the bliss of the pounding surf as it lapped around my ankles, then up to my knees and waist as I dashed into the sea.

Time became irrelevant as I swam out past the breakers and into calmer waters. This was the life. I would have to find an excuse to come here every day for the entire summer. Begging Gran to take me to the public beach, a half hour away every day, wasn’t going to happen. Besides, I didn’t have to share this beach.

Diving beneath the waves, the immense expanse of blue encircled me. I never feel as vibrant or alive as I do when I’m under the surface of the water. All the residual anger I felt at my mother washed away with each wave crashing over me. With a grin on my face, I challenged myself to dive as deeply as I could before coming up for air. Enveloping me each time I dove beneath the surface were silvery fish darting here and there in small schools. Every time I drew near, they skittered off just beyond the reach of my fingertips. Playfully, I would swim into them, making them break apart only to rejoin later.

Once bored with the fish, I swam further out to sea and was astonished to see a sea turtle hovering not far from me. The methodically serene flapping of its fins as if it were a bird in the sky caught my attention, as I watched it glide past, bouncing slightly with each stroke.

Breaking the surface with a large gulp of air, I flipped over onto my back and floated for a while. The rays of the midday sun shone down on me with a comforting warmth