Tim, a garbage handler in a post-apocalyptic bunker, loses the little he has. But then he finds Amy, the redhead with an attitude. Together, they will try to change the world they live in.
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Tim is one of those who shovel the shit and clean away th...
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I tried to see what Amy had cursed at. The tunnel seemed unchanged, but the lights along the ceiling flickered, all the lamps dimming and lighting up to an unheard tune.
A gust of air brushed my face, followed by a rumble and a hiss coming from the other side of the garden.
"What—" I began, but my question was stopped short by a roaring sound—the sound of water.
Lots of water.
A glistening, knee-deep wavefront plowed into the garden's remote end, uprooting the plants and flattening the heaps of earth in its way. It smacked into the ladder without slowing. Some of the whirling mass poured down into the opening there while the rest rushed on towards us. Moments later, it washed over my legs, pelting them with twigs, stones, and mud.
I reached for the wall to steady myself.
Amy just stood there, staring at where the water gushed into the hole at the ladder. As it streamed down, air escaped into the opposite direction, spraying a fountain of droplets against the tunnel's ceiling.
Ed was down there.
And Amy's folks.
I tried to take a step against the current, towards the ladder, but the force of the deluge stopped me.
And what would I do if I got there? I didn't even see the opening anymore.
I looked back at Amy.
She was biting her fist. The water rose over her knees and made her stagger.
"Amy!" I moved towards her, dropping the bloody potatoes and reaching for her hands.
She pulled away and said something. I didn't understand a word over the roar.
Her gaze lingered on the ladder. The opening was now an angry vortex of water, with gusts of air intermittently bubbling up from its center.
A shrub, uprooted by the flow, hurtled towards her. She dodged it and stepped to the wall, using it for support. Then she started moving upstream, towards the mayhem where the ladder was—one step at a time.
I followed and grabbed her arm. "We have to leave. You can't go there."
She looked at me, eyes wide open. Shaking her head, she tore herself free from my grasp and took another step.
The top of the ladder shook, then it tore loose and vanished in the flood. With it went any trace of the passage to the pump room. Now, it was all just a swelling, angry stream.
