Chapter 171
- Becky -
As we descended towards the surging waters of District One, the air grew heavier, damp with salt that strained machinery. The hum that once felt engineered and controlled now sounded labored—like something vast trying to breathe through clenched teeth.
Duke walked beside me; I could see worry on his mind.
"So where are Evan and Kaysi?" Concern threaded in his voice.
He looked forward, scanning the sloped pathways where water crept along the stone seams, with a tensity that made me feel uneasy.
"Well, I found a letter they left on the table back at the Maxwell house—the home and family we took shelter with the people, as you met. They said they went to the governor to discuss a concern in the middle of the night."
Duke raised an eyebrow. "That's an odd hour to talk to officials. And they didn't wake you about their concern."
"No"
He paused, definitely overthinking.
"I can't see the separation from the group unless Kaysi insisted, maybe," he said slowly. "And Evan would only follow if he believed she might face something alone. This is only a thought, but there is safety in numbers. Not unusual patterns; this doesn't make sense.
"I was thinking the same," I admitted. "If it were political tension, they would have waited. If it were a real threat..." I let the sentence trail.
If it were a threat, they wouldn't have left us behind sleeping.
Water lapped against the lower archways as we reached District One proper. It wasn't a violent flood. It was worse—an organized, seemingly unstoppable one. Doors had been forced open along the canal lining. Reinforcement panels are hand-misaligned. Seals were being overridden.
"Hacked," Micah muttered behind us.
Someone was opening the city to the ocean.
"Spread out in pairs," Duke ordered calmly. "Clean the residential block first.
Livestock second. Animal shelter third. Move upward as soon as groups are secured."
Josh flexed his hand once, cyan flame curling briefly around his fingers before fading. "Got it, let's go then!"
We split.
The first residential block was ankle-deep in water, thankfully, higher up in elevation. Elderly residents clung to doorframes while city engineers tried to guide them up ramps that were now slick with brine.
"We've got you," I called out, moving forward.
Josh steadied a trembling man while I reinforced the walkway railing that had loosened from water pressure. Micah carried a woman whose legs couldn't manage the incline. James directed others upward, voice steady and focused.
There was no screaming or yelling.
Just urgency.
Not far from there, livestock handlers struggled to release penned animals, and goats bleated. Chickens flapped in a wet crate. A small cow kicked against a half-submerged gate.
"James, Micah!" I called out when we met up.
He nodded once and pointed toward the outer ring. Together with me, Josh, and Micah, we forced the gate open before the waterline reached the animals. The herd surged upward in chaotic but grateful motion.
The ocean was rising faster now.
Not wildly.
Deliberately.
Another tremor rippled through the district, causing small waves in the water. Somewhere behind us, metal shrieked. "The outer ring is breached!" someone shouted.
We moved again.
The animal shelter was the worst.
Cages are half-submerged.
Dogs barking in confused terror.
Cats clawing at the bars above the waterline.
Josh didn't hesitate—the flame flared just enough to heat-warp locks without harming the animals. Steam hissed as metal expanded.
"Move them up!" Micah called.
I lifted two shaking dogs at once and passed them to waiting volunteers. Elise appeared beside us—she had come back down with a group of non-disabled residents from District Two.
"You didn't stay put," I said.
She gave a big, sharp smile. "Family trait, apparently.
The last kennel door gave way.
Water surged another inch.
Then two.
Then three.
"Time!" Duke's voice cut through everything. "Final sweep!"
We regrouped along the incline. A long line of residents, livestock, volunteers, and animals moved upward in a controlled retreat. It should have felt victorious.
But something felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Too steady.
As I climbed, I glanced back.
The water wasn't crashing through buildings.
It was filling pathways like something clearing space.
Josh slowed beside me.
"You feel that?" he asked quietly.
"Yes"
The ocean beneath the city felt... Aware.
We were nearly at the final ascent when a shout echoed from behind us.
"Wait!"
I turned.
At the very back of the evacuation line, near the lowest bend of the incline, a man struggled in waist-deep water. His leg bent wrong beneath him—ankle shattered, likely from falling debris. Two overturned carts blocked the narrow path between him and the rest of us.
"Hold the line!" Duke ordered, already pivoting.
James moved to clear the carts, but another tremor shook the corridor. The carts shifted again, wedging tighter.
The man tried to drag himself forward.
Too slow.
The water around him darkened.
Not with debris, but with fluid movement. Something large cut through the rising tide beneath him.
My breath caught.
Josh's flames ignited instinctively, casting a sharp cyan across the corridor.
A large dorsal fin breached the surface.
Not drifting but aiming.
The injured man didn't see it.
He was facing us.
Reaching out.
"WATCH OUT!" I shouted.
The waters behind him erupted upward.
The shark lunged forward through the narrow corridor of stone and rising flood.
And he was too far back for us to reach him in time.