Subdue-X

The Swell

I started shouting into the darkness above me. It’s strange how we, as humans, instinctively call out for help, even when we know no one is there. Perhaps it's because we’re so rarely out of earshot. But this time, a voice answered, and footsteps echoed faintly from upstairs.

“Call Christian, we’ve found her,” Pin’s face appeared, leaning over the edge of the hole. His expression was tight, concern evident in his voice. “How did you even manage that?”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have an answer that made sense. He disappeared briefly, and I heard the other person with him on the phone. When Pin returned, there was a glint of fascination in his eyes.

“What do you see down there?” he asked.

“Not what I expected,” I replied, my voice bouncing off the cold walls. Before I could warn him, he jumped down into the water with me. My eyes widened as he grabbed my wrist, checking my pulse, before shining a flashlight into my face.

“It’s going to flood,” I muttered, voice shaky.

“John’s grabbing—” Pin began, glancing at the fast-rising water and turning to look behind him. “It’s moving quick.” He flicked his penlight towards the wall, noticing debris tangled in the overhead lights. The water was surging against the smooth concrete, relentless.

Something brushed my legs—a blanket, caught in the current—and I struggled to free myself from its grasp. The water was past our thighs now, forcing us to press our chests against the wall to keep from being swept away.

“John?!” Pin shouted, irritation creeping into his voice. The only answer was silence. Our eyes met, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep the fear rising in my throat from spilling over into a whimper.

“We need to find something that floats,” Pin’s voice cracked with urgency as he scanned the rushing waters around us, desperate for anything that could keep us afloat. The flood had come from a burst water main, likely ruptured by the recent construction in the area. These halls weren’t designed for heavy foot traffic, let alone the violent surge of water now barreling through them. I spotted a large slab of wood caught in the current and pointed it out.

“There!” I shouted, and we plunged toward it, struggling against the rising torrent. By the time we reached the slab, the water had risen past our torsos. I clung to the wood as the water lifted me off my feet, my grip turning desperate.

“Hold on!” Pin growled, still managing to keep some traction on the floor, but barely. The current tugged at him too, threatening to rip him away as he anchored the slab, preventing me from being swept down the hall. Then we both heard it: a deafening roar from behind. A fresh wave, driven by the weight of the flood, barreled toward us.

“John!” Pin yelled, panic overtaking his usual calm demeanor. The wave slammed into us with the force of a battering ram. The slab wrenched violently, pulling us with it as we were hurled down the corridor. We locked arms, the only thing keeping us together as we spun and tumbled through the rising water. Objects—sharp, hard, and unyielding—collided with our bodies, forcing cries of pain from my throat.

I tried to tuck my legs close to the wood, but sheets, debris, and jagged objects in the water kept wrapping around me, threatening to drag me under. The hallway twisted us, each bump against the walls like being struck with a hammer. My ears filled with the deafening roar of water, so loud I couldn’t even hear Pin’s shouts. His lips moved, but all I could think of was how close the ceiling was getting.

We weren’t going to die by gunfire or some orchestrated program. We were going to drown, buried beneath an underground river I had foolishly leapt into. This couldn’t be it—I couldn’t let it end like this.