~Rain~

Chapter Fifteen

 

Chapter Fifteen

Smugly, the man looked back at the city he had just left. The wall of water was approaching the outer buildings already. Wonder filling his eyes, the man imagined the speed and force the water must have picked up in it’s impossible rampage through the country.

Now everything in sight was impossibly deep in water – from his view of the country, all he could see were the tips of roofs and the occasional lamppost – dotted around like someone had sprinkled them roughly about the landscape.

The man laughed loudly, grinning from ear to ear at the deathly sight before him. This was just what he needed – just what he wanted.

Looking forward to finishing what he had started, the man continued through the only place that was safe. If he was going to get to his destination in time, he would need to get on with it.

He hoped that by the time he got there, his prey would not already be dead – he looked forward to killing them himself.

In his head, he plotted how he would kill them. It was something that of course had to be done, in his opinion. Maybe, after all these years, his opinion was getting a little twisted – but who was he to judge?

Pushing any doubts from his mind, the man pressed on, feeling his bare palms graze against the rough ground. It was damp in there, and cold.

Suddenly, the man stopped, and something bumped behind him. Frozen, the man waited with baited breath. If the water resting on the ground above him got too heavy, he would be dead quicker than he could do anything to stop it.

Deciding that food and water could wait, he made his way toward the place where he was sure his prey would reside.

The underground tunnels were damp and dark, but this was not a problem for the man. On his head, nestled into his dark hair was a miners torch, and the clothes he wore were waterproof and insulated.

The man was prepared. The man was always prepared.

For the first time in weeks, he could not hear the sound of rain, incessantly falling from the sky as though there were no tomorrow. Now all he could hear was the swell of water moving above him, rapids in the city.

In his fist, the man held a photo, muddied and dripping, yet just clear enough to see. As he gazed into the photo, he found hope, and went on to finish what he had started.

…

Tyron could stand it no more. He needed to breathe, more than he had needed anything before.

Conscious, but only just, the boy touched the cold, stiff hand that was still wrapped around his wrist. Getting ready to ease the still and silent grasp from his arm, Tyron whispered a single word of regret.

‘Sorry.’

Just as he was about to peel the frozen hands of the girl from himself, a great swell caught him and pulled him upwards in a flurry of bubbles. With a great roar, the boy was yanked around and then tossed right up into the air.

Spluttering and sucking in air in desperation, the boy landed heavily on the ground. The hard, cold, solid ground.

Grinning from ear to ear, Tyron took in the fact that he was a live and the fact that the wave has subsided all at once. Slowly, so as not to set his head spinning, he pulled himself up from where he was sprawled on his back and surveyed the scene, feeling the water lap around his legs.