Amy X and The Terrible Typhoon: Amy X, #3

By Danny King

Amy X is set to go where no Lowlander has ever gone before — somewhere else. But before she is barely at sea, a terrible storm blows in to sink her ship. 
Alone and adrift in the Southern Oceans, Amy washes back to the shores of Pompolonia but it is not the island she left only a few hours earlier. Homes have been smashed. Families are scattered. The Kingdom is in ruins. 

But Princess Honor has a plan. She will rebuild the Kingdom in her own glorious image – with no expense or hardship spared. She will, "Make Pompolonia Great Again". Every islander is pressed into service but one person refuses to "do her bit". This must surely be someone who hates their wonderful Kingdom.

Another storm is brewing as Amy X and Princess Honor are about to renew their acquaintance. The rest of the island had better take cover.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danny King
• Release date: Feb 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393707646

Danny King

Danny King is an award-winning British author who has written for the page, the stage and the big and small screens. He lives and works in the city of Chichester and can be found on Facebook at 'DannyKingbooks'.

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Amy X and The Terrible Typhoon

(book 3)

Copyright © 2021 Danny King

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by photocopying or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Front cover art

Photography: Charlie King

Model: Frankie King

Design: the author

Quality Control

Every effort has been made to edit and proof-read this book but in the unlikely event that you should spot a typo, please contact me at the below address and I will amend it and add your name to the acknowledgements above with grateful thanks.

[e-mail]

1. All At Sea

The island of Pompolonia may be small in size but it has colossal weather.

Indeed, the very fabric of island life depends upon the elements. Lost in a vast ocean of blue, the tropical suns beat down upon this inconsequential green dot to power a remarkable chain of events. The warm waters evaporate, the vapours rise, clouds billow and the mountain tickles their bellies until the whole lot falls back to Earth as liquid gold. Not literally, of course. That would require sturdier umbrellas than most folks can afford. But this, effectively, is what the waters become, helped in no small part by the finest restaurants in the world.

For Pompolonian Water is the most remarkable mineral water known to humanity.

How do we know this?

Because it says so on the side of the bottle.

And at £100 a litre, it ought to be.

Of course, collecting Earth’s most exclusive eau is by no means an easy task. The island is a thousand kilometres from anywhere and so far off the shipping routes that only one vessel makes the arduous journey each year – the SS Aquarius. Without it, Pompolonia would be cut off completely, but for almost a hundred years now, the Aquarius and its predecessors have been taking the water out and bringing the gold back to leave the island rich.

If not the actual islanders themselves.

The majority know only toil and drudgery, working in the bottling plant and serving the needs of those in charge.

It’s how it was and always will be done.

This was another saying on Pompolonia. Although this one wasn’t written on the side of any bottle, it was etched in into the side of the cliffs in huge letters above Short Grass. Lord Pinemore, author of the sentiment, felt it provided the Lowlanders with a measure of comfort knowing their place in the world. And for most it did. Stability was, after all, security.

But there’s always one, isn’t there?

AMY X STOOD ON THE deck of the Aquarius and watched as the only home she had ever known slipped beyond the horizon and finally from view. One moment it was there, the next it was gone, replaced instead by a gnawing trepidation at all she had left behind. And all she was about to encounter.

Amy was the first Lowlander to leave Pompolonia in 231 years. At least, that’s what it said in the history books but there were two others before her. The first was a fisherman called Bo, who inadvertently sailed singlehandedly to Chile after his boat was blown miles off course, and the second was a dock worker called Mo, who stowed away on the Aquarius 30 years earlier in order to get away from her annoying brother. Neither were ever seen nor heard from again so both were simply listed as lost at sea in an attempt to discourage others from attempting the same thing.

Despite holding a ticket and the admission letter for a prestigious school abroad, Amy felt lost at sea too. She didn’t know anyone where she was going and next to no one on board the Aquarius. Aside from the Captain and crew, there were only a few other passengers to share the slow chug north, all of them Uplanders and all of them incensed at the thought of a having to rub shoulders with a Lowlander. Of course, it should have been Princess Honor and her fellow King’s Academy graduates who were sailing into the sun but unfortunately for them – and partly due to Amy – none of them had managed to graduate this year and so their own prestigious admission offers had been withdrawn. Only Amy had scraped through the entrance examination by the skin of her teeth with a C Grade average. And this was something her fellow passengers could not forgive.

The shame of it; that a grubby Lowlander should think herself our equal, Lord Pinemore said when Amy passed him on the deck. Lord Pinemore was Chief Advisor to the King and father to Euan, Amy’s former classmate. Euan himself was destined to be the future advisor to the future Queen, such was their family’s tradition.

Waste of time trying to educate her sort. You might as well throw away good money trying to teach a Jellyfish to tap dance, Vladimir Wonger agreed. Vladimir was the King’s Chief Financial Advisor and father to Boreas, another of Amy’s former classmates. He too who had missed out on a school place thanks to Amy. Both men had important business abroad and glowered when they saw her standing by the railings.

Ghastly creature. Do you suppose she even knows the harm she has done to our glorious Kingdom? Or cares? Lord Pinemore sneered.

I doubt it. And keep a close eye on your valuables. They’re all thieves these Lowlanders, you know, Vladimir Wonger agreed, clutching the handle of his silver attaché case as though it were the hand of his wife – only a little more lovingly.

Amy didn’t respond. She’d learned by now that insults were the last recourse of the frustrated. The Uplanders hurled them because it was all they had left, just as their children had done when she’d beaten them in the Great Race a year earlier. As the old saying went: sticks and stones might break her bones but names would never hurt her. Moreover, she would wear each insult with pride.

Such a lovely day, she said with a smile, turning and heading past Lord Pinemore and Vladimir Wonger to go and explore the rest of the ship now that they were out to sea.

The Passenger Lounge was situated at the front of the ship, or the bow as it was otherwise known. It had a large viewing gallery and was luxuriously furnished with warm reclining chairs and a generous library for those inclined to do more than simply watch the seas roll by. There was a television too, something Amy had never seen before, and a wifi password for connecting passengers to the internet (whatever that was?). Drinks and snacks were freely available and a person could even hand in their dirty washing to the crew and have their clothes laundered for free. It beggared belief that such a place could exist, especially one with as many pink plastic flamingos as this – a favourite of Princess Honor’s by all accounts. But before Amy could pick up a book the door had swung open and a voice barked at her to: Get out of here!

Curt Holt-Stamper was on board too. Back on Pompolonia, he was the Chief of Police, but here he was Lord Pinemore and Vladimir Wonger’s personal bodyguard and his first assignment was to guard them against Amy.

The Passenger Lounge is for Uplanders only. You are not allowed in here.

Says who? Amy replied, having not seen any sign to this effect.

Says me, Curt raged, infuriated at having to explain himself to a Lowlander.

It’s the Captain’s ship. He’s in charge. You are just a passenger, same as me, Amy pointed out.

Curt’s face turned scarlet and for one moment Amy thought he was about to explode. But then, as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared, returning once more with the First Mate.

The First Mate shrugged apologetically and taped a hastily scrawled sign to the door. It read simply: No Lowlanders allowed.

Sorry Miss, orders of the Captain, he explained half-heartedly.

Curt Holt-Stamper smiled triumphantly as Amy was led from the Passenger Lounge and down to the cargo deck. This was where she would spend the rest of her journey. A bed had been made up for her against the side of the hull and a bucket had been kindly provided should she need the toilet.

This deck is yours, the First Mate told her. Or you can go up on the top deck if you want to get some air but only around the stern. Amy remembered the First Mate from their previous encounter. It was thanks to him that she had got to sit the Academy’s final exam in the first place so she couldn’t understand why he was taking the Uplanders’ side against her now.

It’s a commercial vessel. The Captain might be in charge but they’re in charge of the Captain. At least, as long as we’re hauling this little lot for them, he said, looking around at fifty thousand wooden crates Amy would be sharing her journey with. The noise of two and a half million bottles of water jangling together inside the crates was almost too much to bear. But when combined with the constant chug-chug-chug of the engines, it was positively overwhelming. How on Earth was she ever meant to sleep down here?

I’ll find you some earplugs, the First Mate promised, leaving Amy to get comfortable in her new surroundings.

It was a month to the nearest port, from which her classmates had planned to catch a plane the rest of the way to Europe. But Amy didn’t have the money for a plane ticket. She had originally hoped to stay on the ship all the way to Rotterdam, which was three months away. But would she really have to stay down here in the cargo bay all that time?

As it turned out, she wouldn’t.

THE DAILY POMP

***

PEOPLE REJOICE AS PRINCESS DECIDES TO STAY

HER Royal Magnificence , The Princess Honor, heir to the Kingdom of Pompolonia, today broke with years of tradition by choosing not to take up her school place abroad. My love for our great Kingdom is too powerful. I cannot bear to leave, she told the crowds who had gathered at the dock to see her off.

2. An Ill Wind

Amy had barely been at sea a few hours when she found an alternative use for her bucket. Having never travelled anywhere before except by foot Amy was ill-prepared for the ravages of seasickness. She hurled and hurled and hurled again until her sides ached and her bucket overflowed. And just when she thought she could hurl no more, the ship seemed to sense her misery and went into malicious overdrive, rocking backwards and forwards to stir her senses beyond the very limits of their endurance.

The one saving grace about being confined to the cargo deck was that there was no shortage of water down here. Amy got through about £400 worth of Pompolonian Mineral Water before wondering whether she would be charged for it. More than likely she concluded, particular as she’d used two bottles of the most remarkable mineral water known to humanity to wash her sick from the steel decking next to her bed. Vladimir Wonger would keel over if he knew.

Amy resolved to make good on what she had used and found a hosepipe on the other side of the cargo bay. It was all water anyway, she figured. It tasted more or less the same. Who would ever know?

A short time later, the First Mate returned with some earplugs for Amy.

Gosh, are you alright? You look terrible, he said, answering his own question.

I don’t feel very well, Amy said between empty retches.

I’m not surprised. There are no windows down here. Get yourself up top and look to the horizon, he advised. But don’t go outside. There’s a storm coming in. The Captain’s trying to go around it but it’s a big one.

The First Mate wasn’t kidding. In her short time below decks, the skies had turned black and the seas had become awash with anger. Amy could barely see out of the port side window, lashed as it was by sheets of rain, but what she could see gripped her with fear. Waves as big as houses swept by, swallowing the deck and crashing across the stern. A moment later it would pass and then another, even bigger wave, would come in hard on its heels.

The ship sat heavy in the water, which was hardly surprising seeing as it was three-quarters full of water already. This wouldn’t normally have been a problem. It was a big ship and could negotiate most storms. But this wasn’t most storms. This was something different and it was only getting worse.

The Passenger Lounge door stayed closed as Amy stood in the gangway outside, staring out through a small portside window. If Curt Holt-Stamper came out now and tried to send her back downstairs she would resist regardless of the consequences. But no one came out. No one tried to send her away. Most were far too busy hanging onto the walls and their lunches to worry about anyone else at the moment. For once in their lives, Amy and the Uplanders were all in the same boat. Literally.

The ship was rocking so hard that it was almost turned onto its side