Donnie woke the next morning feeling cold and damp, back aching. He’d spent the night sleeping in a chair in the manager’s office of the Mancini’s restaurant, feet propped on the desk. Given the office was off to the side of the kitchen, he would have woken up if the creature tried getting out of the walk-in refrigerator. Fortunately, there hadn't been a peep out of it all night.
Wrapped in a couple of old tablecloths, Donnie slid his feet off the desk. They splashed as they hit the ground. Several inches of water had appeared in the office and throughout the kitchen overnight, grey and full of little bits of floating debris.
“What the fuck?”
Donnie shrugged out of the tablecloths and made his way around the flooded kitchen. His feet splashed in the floodwaters. In the actual cooking area, the older couple, Al and Rosa Mancini, had created a kind of bed for themselves with bags of flour, rice, and pasta, and a mound of tablecloths which they were also sleeping under. It had been enough to keep them just above the waterline so they hadn’t gotten soaked. The swinging door between the kitchen and the restaurant’s dining area was barricaded by shelving and equipment.
“Guys? Guys, sorry, but wake up!” Donnie said. “Something’s happened, the place is flooded!”
Al and Rosa rolled off their makeshift bed, feet landing in inches of water. Sore and stiff from their unusual place of rest and from the fight last night, they hobbled upright. Donnie started removing equipment from the barricaded door. A weight pushed at it from the other side, not something fighting to get in but a solid, steady presence all the same. As Donnie removed the shelving, the door swung open and a fresh flood, more than ankle deep, poured into the kitchen with enough force to nearly trip him.
“Oh, shit!” Donnie said.
Al and Rosa cried out as water filled the kitchen, lapping around the dishpit, the dry storage area, and up to the walk-in refrigerator. The water was cloudy and full of trash. Leaves and bits of plastic, crushed soda cans and such, floated by like little ships.
“Where did all this come from?” Al said.
Donnie staggered into the dining area, sloshing his feet high over the water. It was totally flooded. Water poured in and out of the front door and the window the creature had broken last night. Bits of broken chairs floated in it along with other random trash.
“The water has risen, it’s still rising,” Donnie said.
Hazy, grey sunlight streamed through the windows. Enough that Donnie didn’t need his flashlight. Rain kept coming down, of course, but not as heavily as last night. Mist rose off the city skyline. Donnie could see the flood drowning surrounding streets and buildings.
Donnie was more convinced than ever that the tentacled creatures were not only connected to the storm, they were controlling it somehow. He wondered how much longer it could possibly go on, and how far the waves and clouds had spread. Coastal areas could be drowned, killing hundreds of thousands. But if they could block out the sun, all over America or the world, crops and other plants would die. Drowned in mud or denied sunlight, killing millions more. Donnie hoped it didn’t come to that. He hoped, terrible as it was, that the invasion was limited and they were just unlucky enough to have been caught in the middle of it.
Something screamed loud enough to split open the sky. Donnie ducked, thinking they were about to be hit by a missile or something. Al and Rosa, standing behind him, also flinched. A fighter jet cut through the rain above. Donnie got a glimpse of it through the smeared windows. One of theirs, a human jet.
“It’s a plane!” Donnie said. “They’re fighting back!”
Shrieking, the jet disappeared into a dark speck among the clouds. Donnie spotted a large helicopter instead moving closer, over some rooftops in the distance. Most of the buildings in their immediate area were shorter and less densely packed than back in the central business district where Donnie had come from. He could see the cluttered blue-grey waters of flooded avenues and causeways. The chopper, blades blurring, bristled with guns and missiles. Wheeling through the rain, it got close enough that Donnie could start to make out more details.
“We’re saved!” Rosa said.
“They must be picking people up,” Al said.
Donnie wasn’t so sure. The chopper was clearly some kind of fighting helicopter and not a rescue craft or transport. As they watched, in fact, the chopper started firing at something. The minigun in its nose was angled down so they couldn’t see what it was shooting at but they could see the piercing lance of flame that flew from its spinning muzzles. Donnie, Al and Rosa all recoiled as the sound carried across the storm and hit the windows.
“What are they shooting at?” Rosa gasped.
Every third round or so glowed a fierce orange in the rain, creating a bright streak across the grey. Sloshing through the flooded restaurant, craning their necks, they couldn’t see what the gunship was firing at. They watched, however, with dreamy disbelief, as what looked like a yellow taxi appeared from behind the building rooftops. It wafted through the air like it had been flung from the ground. As if in slow motion, they watched the taxi lunge toward the helicopter as it tried to veer away. The yellow taxi hit it amidships instead, and it crumbled with the force of the throw. Glass and bits of the vehicle sprayed through the sky. The helicopter was thrown sideways.
“What the fuck?” Donnie shouted.
The taxi fell away, broken, and dropped back to the floodwaters below. It landed with a splash, sending up a glittering geyser. Smoke pouring out of its engine, the gunship helicopter hurtled sideways and couldn’t pull out of its spin. Rotors blurred, stirring the smoke. With a meteoric fall, it plunged into the flooded main avenue that they could see clearly from the restaurant windows. It hit the water, skimmed like a stone into the front of a large, grey building, folded up, and exploded. The fireball flung weapons, the spinning rotor blades, and other bits of the chopper, ripping apart the front of the building. The fire was short-lived though as the wreckage sank and was swallowed by the waters. Debris continued to topple from the building and create splashes in the disturbed water.
“What was that?” Al said. “Mother of God, did something just throw a car at that helicopter?”
A second vehicle, dark green and dripping wet, spiralled into the air. At the top of its arc, it hung in the stormy sky for a moment before dropping. An enormous shape appeared from behind the buildings. Donnie had thought he was beyond shock, having gotten used to the tentacled monstrosities and to the endless flood. His eyes, however, almost bugged out of his skull. The creature now climbing out of the water and onto the buildings was as big as a house and looked like a gigantic version of the horseshoe crabs that had attacked him yesterday. A lifetime ago. Bulkier, thicker through the body, the crab monster had to be as long as a train carriage. Jagged legs as thick as telegraph poles ripped chunks out of buildings and collapsed parts of roofs. Its curved, halfmoon head was as wide as a truck. Serrated claws were tucked up on arms under its chin.
“What is that? Oh, my God, what is that?” Rosa said.
Although its body was bulkier, like a lobster, the giant crab was also tan in colour with purplish markings on its shell, just like the smaller ones that had attacked Donnie. Blown up, even at a distance, those markings looked even more like letters or words in some alien language. Something that big, and armoured, able to move out of the water shouldn’t have been possible. Donnie got a sense it was artificial, a walking tank that had been grown rather than built. Those markings weren’t printed on the carapace, they had grown there, but they were equipment numbers like human beings would put on a tank or an aircraft. From gaps between the crab’s rows of armour, long, darkish tentacles stretched and looped. They looked slimy and elastic, and grabbed at the beast’s surroundings. Some grew as long as the creature itself. The enormous horseshoe crab swung in their direction and kept moving over the building rooftops, crushing more structures underfoot. They were some distance away so it wasn’t as if the monster was coming right at them but it was a terrifying sight.
“Monsters! They have monsters, sea monsters, on their side!” Al said.
Stunned, Donnie sat on the edge of a nearby table and marvelled at the implications. The creatures had technology that could control the weather and the sea, of that he was positive. Assuming that giant crab was also somehow both biological and artificial, a machine that was bred and grown rather than built, the invaders’ technology must have been vastly different from that of human beings. More advanced, or just following a completely alien set of sciences. For all he knew, you could just call it magic. Donnie half-remembered a famous quote from the science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke, about how sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic or something like that. Then again, maybe sufficiently studied magic would be also indistinguishable from science.
“I wonder if there are more of those octopus things inside the crab, controlling it, or if it’s just programmed to destroy things like helicopters, and people,” Donnie said.
“Controlling it?” Al said.
“It seemed more like a machine to me than an animal. A walking tank, a biological machine. But then, I wonder what that makes the smaller versions of it I saw earlier? Walking grenades? Walking landmines, scattered in the battlefield to catch enemies?”
Of course, Donnie knew he wasn’t likely to get answers any time soon. The important thing was what this latest development meant in terms of him getting home. That was all that mattered, all that he could focus on, getting home to Alessa. If the tank was being controlled or was meant to be wiping out all humans in the area, then it could easily destroy the boat. Engine noise or movement might attract it. But they couldn’t stay where they were either. The flood was rising and the monstrous creature might come across them anyway, destroy the building or the boat before they had a chance to fight back.
“We have to get out of here,” Donnie said.
“Get out? We-, we can’t go out there, it’s a battlefield!” Rosa said. “With that-, that thing!”
Donnie gestured at the waters moving in and out of the restaurant. “We can’t stay here, not with this flood getting worse.”
Crushing the edge of another building into rubble, the monstrous creature tipped sideways and allowed itself to fall into the street. Water blasted up into the air. As the mist cleared, the creature disappeared completely under the surface. Bad enough that it was nearby, now it could move without being seen. Enough trash covered the surface of the water to hide its passage.
“Come on, uh, grab what you can, let’s go before it gets any closer,” Donnie said.
The three of them scrambled to grab some food, weapons, and anything else of value. Waves washed through the restaurant, upsetting tables and sucking trash and other debris in and out of the building. A lot of the dry goods were soaked or wedged in among the shelving holding the walk-in refrigerator closed, which they refused to move in case the creature inside was only hibernating or something. They gathered a couple of flour sacks of food and water, knives, cooking spray, candles and matches.
“We get all this in the boat and we go, okay?” Donnie said.
Al and Rosa didn’t seem certain about leaving, not with the addition of that enormous crab and the potential for more. But the restaurant’s floors creaked under their feet. Sodden, it felt like it could give way at any moment. The building itself seemed to shiver as currents and waves pulled at it. If they didn’t leave, they could be trapped by rising waters or the whole structure might fall down around them, pulled down by the flood.
“We’ll come with you, but we won’t go too far if that’s okay, Donnie,” Al said. “Just to find another, taller building where we can be safe.”
“Not a problem, I have to head toward the freeway but I’ll drop you at the first safe place,” Donnie said.
The boat was tied to the railing, ropes and knots straining. Marks were scratched down the side of the vessel from bashing against the concrete and railing all night. It was still in one piece but Donnie thought the owner might be pissed if they ever got it back, assuming they were alive. The three of them tossed the supplies on board and climbed over the side. Rosa, sore and bruised from being thrown by the creature last night, struggled the most. Donnie untied the ropes and they drifted away.
“Mother, that is it?” Al spied the fishy corpse in the cabin, covered by black tarp.
“After I shot it, I couldn’t move it,” Donnie said. “And I thought I might need it to prove my story once I got out of the city. I guess I definitely don’t need it for that now, if the army is battling giant crab monsters in the streets.”
“We should get it out of here, in case it attracted the one last night!”
“If you’ll help me?”
Donnie grabbed two corners of the tarp. Al and Rosa picked up another corner each. None of them wanted to get too close as the rotting, fishy stink filled the cabin. They managed to get the tarp under the body and lifted it, awkwardly picking it up. The tentacled corpse swung heavily. Arms and backs straining, the three of them staggered onto the rear deck. Although they’d been attacked by the creature last night, it was another thing seeing the dead one in the wet, grey daylight. Al and Rosa goggled at the creature’s tentacles and vertical mouth.
“Okay, on three,” Donnie said. “One, two, three!”
Heaving, Donnie, Al and Rosa lifted and slid the creature’s body over the side of the boat. It hit the water with a sploosh. The dark, tentacled corpse sunk rapidly under the surface, dense and heavy, disappearing totally from view. The tarp, oily and covered in ichor, fell out of their hands. Flapping, it lay across the surface and floated away.
“Let’s go,” Donnie said.
The three of them were already wet from the rain. They headed back into the cabin despite the lingering stink. Donnie fired up the engines. Despite the water rising, there was just enough clearance under the rooftop that stretched over the passage at the front of the complex. Donnie gunned around and shot out through the gap.
Rain continued to fall in sheets. The sound of a helicopter engine thundered through the storm a few blocks away, and another fighter jet shrieked in the distance. Gunfire chattered, the direction difficult to determine. The flooded city really was a warzone.
“We can’t go that way, that’s where the giant crab was,” Donnie said.
Donnie steered away from the direction he would have originally taken. If they could at least get a few blocks away, they could circle around. Engines rumbling, Donnie wondered how far vibrations travelled under the water. He pushed the boat faster than he would have otherwise. If need be, Donnie wondered if the boat’s engines could outrun the vast paddling limbs and tentacles of one of those crab monsters. Having disappeared under the water, the giant could be anywhere.
Although hyper-alert about not hitting anything that could tangle the engines, Donnie tried not to look too close again at the debris in the new morning’s light. More human corpses seemed to fill the water than ever. Facedown, bloated, tangled in trash or tree branches or one another. Donnie remembered something he’d found on a random Wikipedia binge, a King of Rats or Rat King or something similar. Horrible masses of living animals that were created when so many rats lived so close together in such squalor that their tails became knotted together and they ended up as big, matted, mutant balls of fur and shit, teeth and claws. Some of the bodies massed together like that thanks to currents. Donnie wondered again how many were dead in the flooded city, tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Depending on how large an area the creatures had hit and invaded, more? How many did he know? Donnie could have been one of them so easily. He’d been assuming Alessa was safe in their apartment but the possibility haunted the back of his mind at all times that she was another one of those thousands.
A helicopter, another gunship, thundered by overhead. Low enough that Donnie ducked at the controls. Its rotors created a wash across the water in front of them. Guns and missiles bristled off the aircraft.
“Are they coming for us?” Al said.
“I hope not, they’re going on ahead of us!” Donnie said. “I’m more worried we could be bait for that giant crab monster!”
Donnie pulled down and around the block, and sped down another street. He turned at a tangle of floating branches and uprooted trees. More gunfire and a distant explosion rolled over the nearest buildings. Donnie straightened and started heading again in the direction he’d originally wanted. He watched the buildings and side streets though, searching for tentacles, telltale wakes, or anything else that might indicate one of those tanklike crabs was trying to cut them off.
“Look, up ahead!” Rosa said.
The tallest buildings surrounding them were apartments. The largest was a looming, silvery building covered in small balconies on two sides. It looked unremarkable but a couple of green flares shot off the building’s rooftop. The glowing flares sunk slowly, simmering in the rain and leaving smokey tails behind them.
“Soldiers must be evacuating people from there,” Al said. “Please, Donnie, take us there. If we’re close to the army, we’ll be safe.”
Donnie wasn’t sure he agreed. Presumably the army was on the frontline of the fight with these creatures. But it made sense to go there if they were evacuating people. Donnie wouldn’t go with them, he had to return to Alessa first, but it made sense for the Mancinis.
“Get ready to tie us up when I pull up to the building,” Donnie said.
Sending up a spray of foam, Donnie pulled the boat alongside the apartment building and yanked the throttle back to idle. The building’s lobby and maybe two lower levels were underwater. Al and Rosa scrambled to throw a rope over one of the balconies, the top of the railing at head height. No tentacled creatures, big or small, appeared to stop them.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Al said. “Out here, you could be killed.”
“I need to make sure Alessa’s okay, or has been evacuated, before I worry about myself,” Donnie said.
Al and Rosa left Donnie a few bottles of water, cooking spray, and other bits and pieces. Donnie left his Serbu in the cabin along with a couple of knives from their restaurant as he went out on deck to help. The railing was tall and solid, and slick from rain. The older couple swung their flour sacks over it but struggled to climb. Rosa especially was struggling with her injured hip.
“Hang on, I’ll help you,” Donnie said.
Donnie stepped up on the side, took a moment to balance, and scrambled up the slick surface. Wet again, he slid over the top and found some cover beneath the overhang of the balcony above.
“Come on!” Donnie said.
Donnie helped Al climb up first, the older man at least able to get his feet under him. Al took a moment to catch his breath and then they both reached down for Rosa. The two men lifted Rosa by the arms. It was a struggle as rain lashed them and the deck, and the side of the boat dipped and rocked. Behind them, the door from the balcony to the apartment was open. As they were pulling Rosa up, Donnie sensed movement.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Hold it right there!” someone commanded.
Donnie was relieved to hear a human voice, no matter what it had to say. He and Al were at an awkward point, however, wedging their hands under Rosa’s armpits. Rather than listen and obey, and drop Rosa back into the boat, Donnie and Al kept pulling her up and over the railing. They got Rosa on her feet and Donnie turned to face whoever had spoken.
Inside, the apartment was dimly lit even with the windows and blinds open. Donnie’s eyes adjusted and he saw four uniformed soldiers. They wore helmets and their vests were cluttered with gear. All four carried hulking assault rifles and had pistols on their belts. Two of them had barrels pointed at the three new arrivals. The other two pointed their guns at the floor but looked as if they could snap them into action in less than a second. Donnie automatically raised his hands, palms outward. Al and Rosa were too winded to act.
“Could you step inside, please,” the soldier who had commanded them to stop said.
The lead soldier looked no older than twenty, baby faced, but spoke and held himself with clear, confident authority. The others, two men and one woman, looked no older. Donnie and the Mancinis came inside, dripping on the carpet. It looked like a normal apartment, overstuffed furniture, cheap print artworks, and children’s toys shoved to the sides of the room.
“I was just dropping these two off here and going,” Donnie said.
“Are you carrying any weapons?” the lead soldier asked.
“Just kitchen knives,” Al said.
“Drop them, please.”
Al and Rosa tossed their knives to the carpet. Donnie had left his shotgun and knives on the boat and he turned, hands raised, to show he wasn’t carrying anything. One of the soldiers came forward anyway and roughly patted him down.
“Come with us, we have all the civilians upstairs on the upper floors until we can evacuate them,” the lead soldier said.”
“They’re staying, I’m leaving in the boat, okay?” Donnie said.
“No, sir, you need to come with us.”
“I’ve got to get to my wife, I was just helping them out! Dropping them here.”
“Sir, it’s a warzone out there! I cannot let you leave,” the soldier said. “You could be attacked, or you could get in the way of operations.”
“I have to!”
“Sir, if you don’t come with us voluntarily, I am authorised to use force.” The four soldiers had relaxed since Donnie, Al and Rosa came inside but they vibrated with potential energy.
Donnie continued to protest that he was willing to risk his own life by leaving. The soldiers made it clear that they would sooner shoot him before they let him go, although preferably they would just knock him out and knot his wrists together with plastic ties. Al and Rosa were allowed to collect their sacks since food and water were needed upstairs. With no electricity, the elevators were out and the three of them were taken up and up via the stairs. Donnie tried to be reasonable, understanding that the soldiers were just following orders.
“You’re evacuating people, right?” Donnie said. “What about apartment buildings in Chatsdale? Down the freeway? Have you been there?”
“No, sir, I don’t believe so,” the young man in charge said. “We are spread thin, the waves hit cities all along the East Coast, Manhattan, Baltimore, we are pushing back in the worst hit areas.”
“My wife is there, I was just trying to get to her,” Donnie said. “When will you reach it?”
The soldier studied him with hooded eyes. “I really can’t say, sir.”
“Where are we being evacuated to?” Al asked.
“Outside the affected area, sir.” The soldier’s tone suggested he really didn’t know.
By the time they reached the upper floors, Al, Rosa and even Donnie were all haggard from the climb although none of the young soldiers seemed to feel it. More soldiers milled around the upper level, lit by electric lanterns. The military were keeping civilians, residents of the building and other evacuees, in some of the penthouse apartments. Their four-person squad led Donnie and the Mancinis to an apartment where a couple of dozen people were already being held.
“Please, wait in here until you are collected, sirs and ma’am,” their leader said.
“Is there someone in charge I could speak to?” Donnie asked.
“I’m afraid they have other things that take priority right now, sir.”
“You can’t just keep me here against my will! I’ve got rights!”
“It’s for your own good, sir. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to lodge a complaint about your rights when this is over.”
The apartment door swung closed. It wasn’t locked but the hallway was full of soldiers that wouldn’t let Donnie pass. A few of their fellow detainees turned to study the new arrivals. Donnie, Al and Rosa were wet and bedraggled. The other civilians, probably all residents of the apartments, didn’t look happy but they were at least dry and dressed in clean clothing. Most were adults but there were a few kids. All the adults seemed to have overnight bags stuffed with clothes and mementos close at hand. Presumably they were residents of some of the other apartments and had been told they could only take one bag when they were evacuated. A man at the head of the room, a little older than Donnie, played a guitar and encouraged people to sing along. A few people humoured him, drawing the children into it. Most people, however, were making no secret they were frightened, miserable, and waiting in limbo for new orders.
“Donnie, I’m sorry,” Al said. “If it wasn’t for us, this building, you would be on your way home to your wife.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” Donnie said. “It’s not even the soldiers’ fault, they have their orders. It’s my fault, and it’s just this insane situation. I should have been home.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Rosa said.
“I have to get out of here, I have to get home. If I knew Alessa was going to be evacuated soon, that would be one thing. But look at all these people, they’re obviously struggling to get folks out of here. I have to get to her to make sure she’s safe.”
“But, Donnie, how?” Al asked. “There are soldiers all over the building.”
“I don’t know, I’ll have to get around them somehow.”
Although the penthouse was large and well furnished, every inch had been claimed by other evacuees. No one was abandoning hardwon seats on the sofa or armchairs. Other people had claimed cushions or just bits of floor, talking, reading books, sitting in sullen silence, or fiddling with phones that had battery power but no reception. Seven or eight people hung around the kitchen like the awkward crowd at a party. Down the hallway, apart from the bathroom other rooms were occupied by their own family units or cliques.
Another man came up to Donnie, Al and Rosa as they stopped in the middle of the room, directionless. He was a little younger than Donnie, in his late twenties, bearded, and with old school, piratical tattoos on both reasonably muscled arms.
“Hey, you came from the outside, buddy? You don’t just live here?”
“Yeah, that’s right, I was trying to drop off these two here but those soldiers forced me to stay,” Donnie said.
“I’m Ken.” The younger man offered his hand. “What’s going on out there? People are talking about aliens, and-, like, giant monsters.”
Donnie introduced himself, Al, and Rosa. He explained briefly what he’d been through and what they’d seen last night and that morning. Ken listened in amazement. A few other people sitting or standing nearby pretended not to be listening in but couldn’t disguise their horror.
“That’s heavy,” Ken said. “Are they just animals or are they like, for real invading us?”
“Like I said, they had weapons, tools, so they’re intelligent. And I’m pretty sure they’re causing this storm,” Donnie said. “And the giant crab, I don’t know, it had these markings on its shell. I can’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just an animal, it was something they created. It was too big for an animal. And I saw some little ones too, same markings. They were too aggressive, they didn’t act like animals.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, like, they don’t have guns or bombs but maybe these creatures, wherever they come from, from another planet or the bottom of the ocean, maybe their technology is different. They learned how to control water and the weather. Learned how to grow, evolve or-, what do you call it? Genetically engineered animals to fight for them.”
“Wow, that’s incredible,” Ken said.
“Look, don’t ask me, I’m no expert.” Donnie was glad to realise the conversation had calmed him down, allowing him to think straight. “How are they getting people out of here?”
The guitar player had moved onto playing Don McLean’s ‘American Pie’ with half-remembered lyrics. Ken took a moment to look around at the waiting crowd significantly and shrugged.
“I don’t know, they took some folk out on the first chopper, but there’s a bunch of different apartments full of people and I don’t think it’s their number one priority,” Ken said. “Man, there’s none of those things in the air, apparently, they don’t have planes, just in the water. But the army is spread out, dealing with everything. I think we’re going to be waiting a while.”
“I need to get back downstairs. We came up the stairwell, do you know if there’s another way?”
“Uh, not really, the elevators are out. I guess maybe the garbage chute if you’re desperate? But I don’t see how you’d get to it. Those guys outside have been polite but we ain’t supposed to leave.”
“The bedrooms are down here, right? Is there one with a balcony?”
“Yeah, brother, the main one does.”
“Donnie, what are you going to do?” Rosa said. “Do you have an idea?”
“Maybe a crazy one,” Donnie said.
Donnie took off down the hallway of the apartment where they were being held with Al, Rosa and Ken in tow. Ken pointed them toward the main bedroom. It was a large room with curtains open to reveal sliding doors onto a rain-slick balcony, providing light. An enormous bed dominated the room, along with a sitting area, dresser, and entrance to an ensuite and walk-in wardrobe. A woman in her sixties or well-kept seventies with silvery hair sat in the armchair by the door. A young couple with two children, one three or four years old, the other only a baby, occupied the bed, playing at an imaginary picnic. Donnie didn’t bother to introduce himself. He went straight to the wardrobe and started pulling open drawers.
“Excuse me, what are you doing?” the older woman asked.
“Looking for something,” Donnie said.
“Excuse me, young man!” The woman rose from her chair. “I may have opened my apartment to all of you until evacuation can come, but that does not give you permission to barge in here and start rifling through my things!”
“Oh, you’re the owner?” Donnie hadn’t thought to realise the apartment’s owner might still be among those waiting for evacuation, and he felt embarrassed that he’d come in treating the place like one of the stores back in the abandoned mall. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I was looking for a bedsheet, it’s an emergency.”
“Bedsheets? Fine! If the children out there need blankets or something to keep them warm, then they are on the top shelf, up there! You only needed to ask.”
“Actually, ma’am, I need sheets, linen, like those on the bed there.”
“What do you need sheets for, Donnie?” Rosa asked.
Although huffy, the older woman came around the bed to help. She wore expensive clothes under a white bathrobe, and her neck, ears and wrists were weighted with jewellery. She helped Donnie pick out a stack of clean, folded, and luckily high thread count sheets. Donnie thanked her and started toward the balcony.
“What are you doing?” Al shouted in surprise. “I hope you’re not planning on making a parachute!”
“No, but as you say, those soldiers are all throughout the hallway,” Donnie said. “But if I can sneak down a couple of levels, break into an apartment there, then maybe I can make my way back down the building to the boat.”
“You’re going to make a bedsheet ladder over the side.” Ken nodded in amazement.
“Are you insane? Using my sheets?” the older woman said, outraged.
“Buddy, you can’t do that,” the man with the two young kids, on the bed, said. “You’ll break your neck!”
“Please don’t cause any trouble, not with my children here!” the mother said.
“Somebody get those soldiers!” the older woman said.
“Al, Rosa, Ken, please, hold them off as long as you can!” Donnie said.
“We can’t lock these people in,” Al said.
“Just, as long as you can,” Donnie said. “I have to get out of here!”
The room broke into an argument, with voices that must have been audible all the way down the hall. The young father jumped off the bed. Al, Rosa and Ken blocked the doorway. Amidst it all, the baby started crying at the commotion. The silver haired woman who owned the apartment tried to stop Donnie but only for a moment, and thankfully no one tried to physically block him. Donnie threw open the balcony door to the wind and cold, and moved outside.
Although the balcony had a roof over it, raindrops splattered Donnie’s face. He knew he didn’t have much time. Turning to the railing, he quickly whipped the first sheet off the pile and started tying a knot around the railing. Donnie ignored the arguing inside the bedroom but knew he didn’t have a lot of time. The other two sheets in the pile he lashed around his torso like bandoliers. Donnie knew next to nothing about tying proper knots but the one he’d used seemed solid. To test it, Donnie pulled at with all his strength and then leaned backward across the balcony. It held. At this height, the rain slashed sideways. Cold knifed through his damp clothing.
“Don’t do it!” someone shouted from the room behind him.
Donnie tossed the sheet over the railing so it trailed to the next balcony below. He made the mistake of looking straight down as he did so. Vertigo rocked him backward. The flooded street yawned, the side of the building stretching. From this height, he’d hit the water like hitting concrete. Donnie gripped the railing, breathing heavily, and had no choice but to take a few precious seconds just to recover his nerve. Even then, his heart fluttered in his chest like a hummingbird.
“I am crazy, this is crazy,” Donnie said.
The material was already wet and hanging straight down, limply, as Donnie took hold. He wrapped the sheet around his forearms. While he made time for the gym a couple of times a week, maybe not as faithfully as he should, Donnie was making assumptions he didn’t really know about his own body. He assumed his arms could take his weight long enough to climb down at least one level. Resolving not to look down again, Donnie slipped over the railing. Gently, gently, he lowered himself, gripping the bedsheet. Wind and rain, lighter thankfully than the full storms had been but still hard, whipped him. Then, with a jolt, he was falling. His hands tightened hard enough on the sheet to burn. He was hanging by nothing but his arms, dangling over a yawning abyss. A cry strangled in his throat. Heart slamming on his ribs, for a few moments all he could do was breathe.
Hand over hand, Donnie made his way down the sheet. His breathing and pulse were so fast and so hard they almost made him choke. Donnie had never felt so vulnerable, so naked, so exposed to the elements. Trying to forget the fall, Donnie struggled to concentrate on nothing but the rope and on feeling for the balcony railing below him with his feet. Despite his jacket, rain lashed his back like a cat o’ nine tails. He felt like at any moment a gust could pick him up and slam him against the side of the building hard enough that he couldn’t help but lose his grip.
Donnie found the gap of the next balcony with his feet. He kicked until he found the railing of the next balcony. The soles of his boots and the railing were both wet and slippery. Arms and shoulders burning, he lowered himself as far as the sheet would go. He swung, tucking his legs in, and let himself fall. Staggering forward, he landed and crashed into some plastic furniture, knocking it over.
“Oh, God, oh, God, I made it!”
Burning in Donnie’s arms and shoulders retreated into a pleasant warmth, the feel of a workout. He knew he had no more time to recover than that. He quickly returned to the railing and started tying his second sheet. He only had enough sheets to do the climb another two times. That was more than enough. The second knot was identical to the first but Donnie tested it as well before starting to clamour over the rail.
“Hey! Hey, stop that!” a voice shouted from above. “Get back onto the balcony, sir! And stay there!”
The voice had the authority of one of the soldiers in it. They’d been alerted to Donnie’s escape. They probably hadn’t believed anyone would be stupid enough to try escaping this way. Donnie had to act fast. Rushing in these conditions was a bad idea though. He let himself drop, gripping the wet sheet, and his hands slipped. Donnie cried out and was smacked against the railing. His hands tightened on the sheet as if strangling it and the knot seemed to slip or settle.
“Oh, Jesus, don’t let me die!” Donnie said. “Please don’t let me die.”
Rain lashed Donnie’s face and blinded him. If he didn’t keep climbing though, he’d risked his life for nothing. He imagined the soldier who’d shouted at him storming back through the apartment, barking orders. Getting back to the hallway and assembling a crew to go storming down the stairs, finding the right apartment. Quick as he dared, Donnie made his way hand over hand. He blinked rapidly, unable to spare a hand or a moment to wipe his eyes. His legs swung into open space above the next balcony. He let himself fall, bit by bit, trying to ignore the yawning abyss at his back. Letting go, he twisted and threw himself forward. He crashed onto the balcony, falling to his hands and knees, amazed to be alive.
Donnie stripped the last sheet off his shoulders and tossed it aside, lacking the time or inclination to go down another level. Fortunately, this balcony had metal rather than plastic furniture. The apartment looked dark and empty. Donnie picked up one of the metal chairs without hesitation and drove it into the glass panel by the balcony’s sliding door. Glass collapsed, shattering into several sections and then completely disintegrating. Donnie threw the chair aside and ran through the frame. By instinct, he crossed the room, negotiating his way through the apartment and letting himself out the front door.
The hallway was even darker than the apartment, no electric lanterns on this level. Over the stairwell though was a green, battery-powered exit sign. Donnie sprinted toward it and threw the door inward, running to the steps. Shouts came from the level above him.
The stairwell was poorly lit by emergency lighting on each landing. Donnie rocketed down the flights of stairs like the forces of Hell were on his tail. Sometimes his momentum carried him over two or three steps at a time. At any moment he could have tripped and rolled an ankle or been sent sprawling down a whole flight to break his neck. After scaling down the outside of the building with bedsheets, however, the thought of tripping in the stairwell didn’t seem as daunting.
Donnie wasn’t counting the levels as he went down. He heard shouts and stomping feet above him but as he ran, in spite of the soldiers’ greater level of fitness, they actually shrunk away from Donnie. He was running with greater abandon than them and they were weighed down by guns and equipment. Eventually, he figured he’d see water below and realise this was the level where he got off. From below, however, Donnie heard voices and the crackle of radio handsets.
“Shit,” Donnie panted.
Of course, there was a squad of soldiers below guarding the waterline. Maybe the same ones that he caught Al, Rosa, and himself. Donnie stumbled to a stop. He couldn’t fight his way past trained soldiers. If he hesitated too long though, he’d be caught in a pincer between the two groups.
Donnie threw himself at the nearest exit, into another corridor. Again, it was dark and empty. Lit by the glowing exit sign, Donnie went looking for an unlocked apartment door. He wasn’t sure if he had the time or strength to kick one down.
“Hey, hey! Freeze! Stay where you are!” someone shouted as the stairwell door swung closed.
Donnie found a door left unlocked, perhaps in the rush when everyone was evacuated from the lower levels. Behind him, the stairwell door imploded. Heavily armed soldiers were hot behind
him. He left the apartment door open and went racing across it.
“Stop!”
Thick blinds covered the sliding door onto the balcony. Lines of grey light outlined the door and the panel of glass next to it. Donnie crossed to the door, throwing the blinds aside and scrabbling at the handle and lock. He rolled it open and slipped out into the cold and wet. He was unsure of how high up he even was at that point.
“Sir, stop! It’s for your own good!” the soldier behind him yelled.
Donnie ran to the railing. Rain dumped down harder. The floodwaters were a lot closer than they had been when Donnie was climbing down the sheets but he was still a couple of stories above the surface. He wouldn’t hit like concrete but he could definitely hurt himself if he hit some debris in the water. Donnie could see his boat tied up against the balcony where they’d left it, two levels below and a few apartments over. Gunfire echoed in the distance, reminding Donnie the murky water could also be hiding worse than just trash that he could maim himself on.
Bodies crashed through the apartment behind Donnie. It was now or never, he’d risked it all for nothing if he didn’t act. Donnie climbed over the railing and jumped. Launching himself outward, he tried to aim for a clear patch in the water. Soldiers stormed the balcony behind him, so close that Donnie almost felt their hands on his collar.
Splattered by rain, Donnie sailed toward the water in freefall. The flood was choppy and full of debris. Debris that could snare, cut, or knock him out. Donnie hit the water feet first and plunged through a clear square in the surface. Although he was already wet and windblown, the cold was a shock. Water filled his eyes and ears, cutting off his senses. Something clipped his right arm hard enough to hurt, although it didn’t cut through his sleeve. Donnie kicked and thrashed. Fighting his way back to the surface, something else hit him on the head and barred his path for a moment. He managed to circle around it and keep swimming.
Donnie’s head broke the surface and he gasped for air. As his vision cleared, he was vaguely aware of soldiers lined up on the balcony he’d jumped from, gesturing and yelling. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by them. The current seemed to be battling him, dragging him away from the boat, and his layers of soaked clothing felt thick and heavy. Paddling and kicking, he started back toward the building and toward his boat before the weight could suck him down.
The journey felt incredibly ponderous, the current pushing Donnie back one body length for every two he swam. He also had to navigate between bits of trash and wreckage in the water, even corpses. If he didn’t get to the boat before the soldiers, again it would all be for nothing. Donnie was also terrified to feel something wrap around his ankle, or for some huge shape to rise up below him. He swam as hard as he could, arms and shoulders once again burning, lungs quickly joining them.
Everything seemed quiet above as Donnie reached the boat. Maybe the soldiers had given up on him as an irredeemably crazy person, or maybe they were looping through the building down to the lower level. Slapping at the side, he lunged and grabbed the top of the low wall that surrounded the back deck. Lifting and kicking, Donnie wriggled his way up and collapsed in a sopping mess on the deck.
Donnie gasped for air and forced himself to his feet, throwing off his heavy coat. It landed with a wet slap on the deck. He went to untie the rope attaching the boat to the balcony. Perched, however, on the side of the boat, was another of those small horseshoe crab creatures, tan with purplish markings. Its curved barbs were raised up and over its back like a scorpion. Even eyeless, it studied Donnie with obvious threatening intent.
“Oh, fuck off!” Donnie spat.
Donnie swung one boot into the crablike creature like it was a football, sending it flailing off the side of the boat. Its carapace cracked against the apartment building and it fell into the water. Donnie wasted no time in untying the wet knot attached to the balcony railing although his fingers were numb and uncooperative. He untied the rope, pulled it in, and immediately shoved away from the building.
Donnie was wary of more small crab-things on board, but didn’t spot any. His Serbu Super Shorty shotgun, knives, and a couple of cans of cooking oil spray with candles had been left in the cabin. Stumbling to the controls, Donnie fired up the engines. They caught immediately, without a stutter.
“Thank you, God, thank you,” Donnie said.
Donnie pulled away, across the street, with engines foaming. Debris bounced off the nose of the boat. Glancing back, Donnie saw soldiers gathering again on the balcony he had just untied from. Thankfully, despite the rifles hanging off their shoulders, all their ammo and equipment, no one took a shot at Donnie’s escaping back. They shrunk quickly against the backdrop of the ruined city.