“Yes, well into high school.”
Oh my fucking God, is that adorable or are my standards apocalyptically lowered?
“I’m not scared of the dark,” he says, clearly lying. “I’m scared of the tunnel.”
“What’s it going to do? Bite you?”
“Collapse.” He’s pointing the light at the ceiling, looking for cracks.
“Right, because a flashlight is going to sto—AH!” I let out a cry as something cold and wet touches my ankle and floods my shoe.
“What?” Jamie jumps, and there’s fear in his voice. The light moves over the tunnel quickly and I see the water. The tunnel’s flooded up to my ankles.
“Great,” I say, lifting my foot out of the water, even though this accomplishes nothing. I set it back down and continue walking.
“Wait, stop.”
“Jamie, it’s not collapsed.” I turn and take the flashlight from him, pointing it farther ahead. It fades into the blackness as the tunnel curves ahead, but I can see the ceiling of the tunnel reflecting off the surface of the water below. “It’s probably just from the rain. This is a slope and the tunnel’s wide open to the elements.”
Jamie doesn’t answer, but when I turn to walk forward his feet slosh into the water as well. I hand him the flashlight and we continue.
It isn’t until the light behind us has totally faded that I realize the water feels like it’s rising against my legs. I chalk it up to us making small waves, but then Jamie speaks.
“The water’s higher.”
“We’re still sloping down.” But I’m not so sure that’s the answer anymore.
We keep moving in silence, but then the water passes my knees. It’s getting harder to walk now. Then the water reaches my thighs and, yes, we may have made a mistake. Jamie doesn’t speak, though. Either he’s too pissed or he knows I’ve reached the same conclusion he has: we’re already halfway through the tunnel and the mistake’s been made.
The freezing water slips past my waist and my teeth are chattering. I turn to Jamie; he’s still pointing the flashlight up at the tiled ceiling. He isn’t mad, he’s scared.
“Is it too late to say I’m sorry?” I ask.
“A little bit, but it’s fine. We have to be close.”
We keep moving, but the water keeps rising. It’s up to our chests and we lift our guns over our heads. But the packs are waterlogged and slow us down. There are a few cars that have rusted under all the water, the insides filled as well. Jamie flashes a light at one and we see the bloated body of someone floating against the window.
“I think it’s the pumps,” he says. I don’t ask for clarification because my teeth are chattering but he gives it anyway. “I think the tunnels have pumps that keep the river water out. There was a hurricane that hit New York and the subways flooded because the water couldn’t be pumped out fast enough.”
“See? I told you it didn’t collapse. And here you were, worried this would be more difficult for us.”
“Boy, is my face red.”
“Eh, looks a little blue.” I smile at him but then see that theflashlight is dimmer. “Hey, Jamie. Remember that joke I said earlier about the flashlight running out of batteries?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t funny.”
“It’s even less funny while it’s happening.”
Jamie looks into the flashlight. “All right. Can we move a little faster?”
I nod and we keep moving. The water’s almost to our necks. At this point we can practically swim.
“Don’t let it get in your mouth or eyes,” Jamie says. The light is getting dimmer. What if the water gets higher? We can’t swim because the canned food in our packs will weigh us down.
What do we do?
Jamie lets out a cry as the flashlight dies, and we’re alone in the dark beneath a hundred feet of cold river water.
