Not another voice gone silent because I arrived minutes too late.
Al coughs.
The sound is wet, broken, and beautiful.
He convulses, vomits water onto the ledge, and drags one shattered breath into his lungs. Maren sobs with relief. Doreen curses from somewhere nearby. I roll Al onto his side as he coughs again, bloody water spilling from his mouth.
His eye opens halfway.
“Coffee,” he rasps.
I almost laugh. It comes out as a sound too close to breaking.
“You are alive,” I say.
“Disappointing… several people.”
His voice is weak. Too weak.
I assess quickly. Head wound. Possible fractured ribs from debris or compressions. Left leg twisted wrong below the knee. Shoulder dislocated. Hypothermia. Inhaled contaminated water.
He needs a clinic immediately.
Everyone needs evacuation.
“Kauss,” Juno shouts from the north side. “The west ladder’s jammed with people!”
I look over.
The main escape route cannot move them fast enough. Water is climbing toward the upper ledge now. The floodgate still pours black water into the chamber.
I stand.
“Renn’s brother,” I shout. “Take Al. Keep his head elevated. Maren, get the children up first. Doreen, you direct traffic from the ledge.”
Doreen, shaking and pale, gives me a vicious grin. “Bossy drain dragon.”
“Useful drain dragon.”
“What about the gate?” Juno calls.
I turn toward the north channel.
The override lever remains jammed. If I can force it down, the gate may close. If the control box is too damaged, I will have to break the lift chain manually. Either way, the channel is dangerous. Current strongest there. Debris impact likely. Entrapment risk high.
Good.
Danger I understand.
I fight my way through the water toward the gate. The current shoves harder with each step, trying to turn my body sideways. A metal crate slams into my thigh. I ignore it. A broken pipe scrapes across my ribs. I grab it and throw it behind me.
The control box has been cut open with professional tools.
Not kids.
Not ordinary Poison Memories idiots.
Someone with technical knowledge. Or someone hired.
