A purple skull-bloom has been painted on the inside of the box in fresh marker.
My vision narrows.
I tear the jammed pipe from the lever slot and force the lever down.
Nothing.
Of course.
I punch through the remaining casing and grab the manual chain assembly inside. The chain has been partly severed. It slips once, slicing across my palm. I wrap it around my forearm and pull.
The gate judders.
Water surges harder as the mechanism tries to engage.
I pull again, roaring through clenched teeth as ancient metal resists. The chain bites into my scales. My boots skid on submerged concrete. For a moment, the current nearly takes me off my feet.
Then something gives.
The gate drops halfway with a thunderous crash.
Water explodes upward, drenching the chamber in spray. The current weakens, not enough, but enough. I haul the chain again, muscles burning, and the gate slams down another three feet before stopping against debris lodged beneath it.
Not sealed.
Reduced.
It will have to be enough.
By the time the last child is on the ladder and the water stops rising, my body is shaking from cold, effort, and rage.
We evacuate through three access points. Maren and her son first. Juno helping Doreen. Renn’s brother and two others carrying Al on a makeshift stretcher made from a door and rope. I go last because that is what soldiers do and because if one more person is left behind in a flooding tunnel, I will tear the city open with my hands.
When I climb out into the alley, dawn has begun graying the sky over Halo.
Rain still falls.
The survivors huddle beneath awnings, blankets, and tarps. Some are crying. Some stare in stunned silence at the hatch as if the underground might open its mouth and swallow more of them. Al lies on the makeshift stretcher, skin gray, lips blue, breathing shallowly while Maren kneels beside him holding his hand.
No medics yet.
Of course.
The city does not rush for people it already forgot.
I pull out my comm with fingers stiff from cold and filth.
Evie’s contact glows on the screen.
My thumb hovers.
We argued. She threw me out. I hurt her. She said love and I failed to answer.
I cannot call her into this.
I call Mira.
Her voice comes thick with sleep and instant suspicion. “Kauss?”
