Chapter Eight
Tyler
T hey’re gone.
There’s no way the Angler-traz could survive that monstrous mutation the sea has become. The boat would have capsized or the waves swallowed it. Aaron is a good captain, but he’s not that good. He’s not invincible.
Pain lances in my chest, carving out a hole where my heart once was. My brothers—the only family I have—are dead and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I should have been there with them. I almost was. Instead, an elevator held me captive and miraculously got caught up arguing with Kellen. Had those things not happened, it’s definite that I’d be floating through the city, nothing but fish food.
At least I’d be with my brothers.
Someone wails in the distance, dragging me from my own self-pity. It’s not Kellen. He’s staring at the water lapping at our shoes, eyes wide with terror.
“Help,” the woman cries out. “Someone please help.”
Again, I wait for Kellen—clearly the boss of everyone here—to snap into action. He doesn’t flinch. I’m pretty sure he’s in shock. I sure as hell am.
We can’t just sit here and do nothing, though.
Aaron, and even Jesse, wouldn’t sit around, waiting for help. No, they’d snap into action to help people. If anything, I can honor my brothers by being like them.
“Hold my bag,” I croak out, slipping my backpack off my shoulders. “Do not drop it into the water.”
My harsh instruction has Kellen flinching. He eyes me warily but takes the bag, gripping the straps tight as he pulls it to him. Once I’m sure he’s not going to lose it—both the backpack and his mind—I scurry across the drenched carpet toward the area I believe was the doorway.
It’s underwater.
Fabulous.
I’m rethinking my decision when I hear muffled voices and more sobbing. I take into consideration the slant of the building and the windows of Kellen’s office. If only one corner of his office is above water, it means the others on this floor may not have much air. If they’re injured, too, they may only have a matter of minutes. I have to help.
Sucking in a huge breath, I drop into the cold water, sliding along the floor until I’m completely submerged. It stings to open my eyes, but I need to see where I’m going. The water is dark and murky, but I soon find the outline of his office door. I swim toward it. A filing cabinet is sitting on one side, pinning the door down.
“Kellen, are you in there?”
The water muffles the voice, but it’s definitely a female. Soft thumps on the door can be heard below me.
My lungs start to burn, so I push up to the surface for air. “Hey, lady, can you hear me?” I yell through the wall. “Me and Kellen are safe. What’s your status?”
“It’s Frannie! I’m Frannie. We have some pockets of air, but every time a wave hits—”
Her words are drowned out and then I can hear coughing on the other side.
“There’s a filing cabinet on the door,” I holler. “I’m going to move it and then get the door open. Be ready to swim. I’m going to get you out of there.”
I don’t wait for a response and then dive back into the water. The filing cabinet is heavy now that it’s full of soaked papers and files, but I manage to dislodge it. Before I can grab the handle, it’s pushed open and an older woman pops through. I take hold of her arm and drag her in the direction of relative safety. Once we emerge and she sees Kellen, she starts to cry.
Finally, he wakes from his fog and scrambles forward. I’m grateful to see he still has hold of my bag, even as he takes her hand, helping her to the floor beside him.
“T-There are others, b-but I’m not sure where,” she says, her entire body quivering. “We have to help them.”
I give her a sharp nod. “Stay here with Kellen. I’ll go find them.”
The water is chilly but not unbearable as I make my way back under the surface. This time, I swim through the door and into the reception area. I realize there’s a small pocket of air above me, so I take a second to take a breath and regroup.
“Anyone there?” I call out.
Several voices reply at once, seemingly eager at the prospect of rescue. Unfortunately for them, it’s just me. No police or coast guard or guardian angels. It’ll have to do.
I dive back under the surface, swiping papers and other debris out of my way as I swim toward where I think the people are. I see several legs treading water on the other side of the elevator.
Popping up at the surface, I quickly survey the survivors. I immediately recognize the geek, the asshole, and the old woman from the elevator. There’s also a man and two other women. All of them are soaked and terrified, looking at me like I’m their savior.
“Kellen and Frannie are in Kellen’s office,” I explain, breath as choppy as the water around us. “There’s a pocket of air between here and there. There’s room to sit in his office. Follow me.”
Not waiting for anything else, I dip back down after a deep breath. Turning, I make sure they’re following before swimming through the reception area. I stop to suck in more air near the door, hearing several others behind me do the same before swimming through the doorway.
Kellen is still hugging onto Frannie when I make it back into the office, my bag secured in his iron grip. I crawl out of the water and then start tugging people onto the carpet. Eventually, everyone is safely out of the water and huddled together on the small patch of space that’s not underwater.
“Anyone else on this floor?” I ask, eyes darting to Kellen.
He frowns and shakes his head, uncertainty in his voice as he says, “I don’t think so.”
“No,” a blond woman says firmly. “This is everyone.”
Eight pairs of eyes land on me, assessing me as though I have the answers as to what’s next. Truth is, I have no idea. I’m just as lost, terrified, and confused as they are. Difference is, I’ve spent a lifetime hiding those fears—first with my parents and then later in foster care. Even now, I’m just faking adulthood, hoping no one notices I’m as clueless as they are.
“What do we do now?” the asshole asks. “We’re royally fucked.”
Kellen bristles but says nothing.
I let out a heavy sigh, realizing once and for all that no one is going to step up. It has to be me. “Yeah, it appears we’re fucked. But we can survive this. I’m Tyler.”
“I’m Frannie,” Frannie says. “This here is Kellen as you know.” She points out the others, starting with the geek, the asshole, and the old lady from the elevator. “Brian, Kyle, Barb.” Then she points to a guy about Kellen’s age, a sobbing brunette, and the fierce-looking blonde. “This here is Gerry, Elise, and Hope.”
“Great,” I say, nodding slowly. “We need to gather supplies. Anything useful. We don’t know when this water will recede or when help will arrive. Things could go south quickly and we don’t want to be sitting ducks.”
Kyle sneers. “Not really the time for cute puns.”
Ignoring him, I reach over to take my bag from Kellen. “I have a couple of protein bars and a bottle of water in here. Does anyone have any snacks or bottles in their desk drawers or somewhere we could get to?”
“I have stuff in my desk drawer,” Frannie offers.
“Me too,” Hope chimes in.
Elise, with her chin wobbling, whimpers. “Is…Is everyone else in the building dead?”
“What do you think?” Kyle growls. “The building is under fucking water!”
The group erupts into a cacophony of grumbled agreements and admonishments for Kyle being cruel. I stop them with a wave of my hand.
“We don’t have time for this,” I spit out. “Frannie, Hope, let’s go see what we can find. Kyle, can you swim over to the windows and see if you can assess what’s going on out there. The rest of you can move any furniture out of this corner so we have more room.”
“Who died and put this kid in charge?” Kyle asks, lip curled in disgust.
“Kyle,” Kellen grunts. “Stop.”
Kyle’s nostrils flare, but he gives Kellen a clipped nod. “Fine. Brian, you’re coming with me. I’m not going alone.”
Brian grimaces but nods. “Yeah, sure, man.”
I hand my bag back to Kellen. Knowing that I have supplies in it, he seems to grip it tighter than before. Now that we have our duties, me, Frannie, and Hope slip back into the water. I lead the way, pausing at the next air pocket.
“Whose desk is closest?” I ask, but their answers are drowned out when the water swells and steals our pocket of air. Seconds later, it recedes again, giving us much-needed oxygen.
“Mine,” Frannie says. “Over there, I think. Everything moved when the big wave hit.”
We all suck in a breath and then dip below the surface, following Frannie. She finds her desk and then wrenches open a drawer. She grabs a personal size bag of what looks like skinny popcorn and a package of peanut butter crackers. I take them from her to free up her hands. She motions that it’s all she has. Hope points toward where I found the others near the elevator.
Once we reach the next air point, we emerge again, all of us panting from exertion.
“My desk is over that way,” Hope says, pointing in another direction. “I brought my lunch but ended up eating takeout instead. I have some stuff in my bag.”
“We’re right behind you,” I assure her. “Let’s grab it.”
Again, we dive under the water and swim through floating debris and furniture. Hope locates her desk and pulls out the bag. She slides it over her body, securing it, and then opens another drawer. From there, she retrieves a sharp, long letter opener. Definitely might be useful. I give her a quick nod and then point back to the elevators. The trek back doesn’t take but just a few minutes. We’re resting in the pocket near Frannie’s desk when Frannie speaks up.
“Do you think anyone made it into the stairwell?” Frannie asks. “Should we check?”
Both Hope and I nod.
“Follow me,” Frannie says before dipping under the water again.
She swims away from Kellen’s door, farther into the murky waters, kicking hard until we reach a door labeled STAIRS. It’s dented inward, probably from a desk hitting it or something, making me wonder if it’ll even open. After watching Frannie fumble with the doorknob a couple of times, I push her away. Using my foot against the wall beside it for leverage, I twist and pull with all my might. Metal groans and protests, but then gives in. My lungs are burning with the need to breathe. Rather than go back, I swim through the opening and am elated to discover a lot more air and dry surface.
“Oh my God,” Frannie croaks out when a body bumps into her. “Is he dead?”
The man in question has a gash on his neck and isn’t moving. I flip him over and based on the gaping wound that’s nearly decapitated him, I’d say he’s long past saving.
“He’s dead,” I grunt out. “Nothing we can do for him.” I gesture to the stairs going up to the roof. “But if we could get everyone here, the ground is higher and might be safer.”
Hoisting myself out of the water, I walk up the uneven stairs now that the building is leaned over, using the handrail to keep steady. Thunder rumbles outside, rattling the entire building and every single one of my bones. This storm—or whatever the hell this is—doesn’t seem content until we’re all dead.
From beyond the concrete outer walls of the stairwell, wind howls, an ominous warning seconds before the building starts groaning even louder. Water sloshes around the steps, roughly spewing up and spraying me. Frannie has already climbed up the steps with me, but Hope is still in the water, now getting tossed away from the steps. She cries out when she hits the wall and then the corpse bumps into her.
“Get over here where it’s safe,” I yell, reaching an arm out toward her.
Hope manages to push away from the wall and grabs onto my outstretched hand. I tug her up over the railing. To her credit, she doesn’t complain about her hit to the shoulder and quickly steadies herself on her feet, having lost her high heels somewhere along the way.
The landing between Kellen’s floor and the rooftop is dry and big enough for everyone to gather, so as soon as we can, we’ll need to move everyone to the new location.
Frannie climbs the stairs ahead of me and beats on the rooftop door when she makes it there. “It’s stuck!”
I push past her and attempt to turn the knob, but it’s locked. Beside the door is an enclosed ax in a metal cage. Naturally, that’s locked too. My pocketknife is in my backpack. I’ll have to wait until I grab it unless…
“Hope, you still have that letter opener?”
She unzips the lunch bag and retrieves the shiny metal object. I take it from her and then assess the metal cage. The padlock that’s keeping it sealed shut is thick but cheap. It takes some finagling, but I manage to jam the keyhole enough times with the letter opener that it breaks something inside the lock. I let out a rush of relieved breath when I’m able to yank on the lock to free the ax.
The ax is lightweight and easy to handle. After pulling it free, I glance over my shoulder to make sure Hope and Frannie aren’t right behind me before I start swinging the thing. I take a step back and then swing it hard overhead, landing the blade on the thinnest part of the metal between the knob and door.
Crack!
The knob flies off, scuttling across the concrete floor before rolling over the edge and into the water below. The door swings open, nearly smacking me in the face. I grab hold of it and then gingerly peek my head outside.
It’s pouring down rain now, making it difficult to see much more than a few feet out in front of me. But based on the broken glass, hunks of concrete, and tangles of metal from other buildings that have landed on the roof, it’s safe to say that the buildings around us aren’t in much better shape.
My eyes land on a milk-jug-sized piece of concrete. I run through the rain the few feet ahead and scoop it up. When I come back, both women are watching me warily. The wind fights me, but I manage to shut the door and push the concrete in front of it to keep it from swinging back open.
“Now what?” Frannie asks, despair etched into the lines of her face. “What do we do now?”
Roll over and die because, like Kyle said, we’re fucked.
“We’ll figure it out,” I lie. “Let’s get everyone up here and then we’ll figure it out together.”