Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Whose desk is closest?” I ask, but their answers are drowned out when the water swells and steals our pocket of air. Seconds later, it recedes again, giving us much-needed oxygen.
“Mine,” Frannie says. “Over there, I think. Everything moved when the big wave hit.”
We all suck in a breath and then dip below the surface, following Frannie. She finds her desk and then wrenches open a drawer. She grabs a personal size bag of what looks like skinny popcorn and a package of peanut butter crackers. I take them from her to free up her hands. She motions that it’s all she has. Hope points toward where I found the others near the elevator.
Once we reach the next air point, we emerge again, all of us panting from exertion.
“My desk is over that way,” Hope says, pointing in another direction. “I brought my lunch but ended up eating takeout instead. I have some stuff in my bag.”
“We’re right behind you,” I assure her. “Let’s grab it.”
Again, we dive under the water and swim through floating debris and furniture. Hope locates her desk and pulls out the bag. She slides it over her body, securing it, and then opens another drawer. From there, she retrieves a sharp, long letter opener. Definitely might be useful. I give her a quick nod and then point back to the elevators. The trek back doesn’t take but just a few minutes. We’re resting in the pocket near Frannie’s desk when Frannie speaks up.
“Do you think anyone made it into the stairwell?” Frannie asks. “Should we check?”
Both Hope and I nod.
“Follow me,” Frannie says before dipping under the water again.
She swims away from Kellen’s door, farther into the murky waters, kicking hard until we reach a door labeled STAIRS. It’s dented inward, probably from a desk hitting it or something, making me wonder if it’ll even open. After watching Frannie fumble with the doorknob a couple of times, I push her away. Using my foot against the wall beside it for leverage, I twist and pull with all my might. Metal groans and protests, but then gives in. My lungs are burning with the need to breathe. Rather than go back, I swim through the opening and am elated to discover a lot more air and dry surface.
“Oh my God,” Frannie croaks out when a body bumps into her. “Is he dead?”
The man in question has a gash on his neck and isn’t moving. I flip him over and based on the gaping wound that’s nearly decapitated him, I’d say he’s long past saving.
“He’s dead,” I grunt out. “Nothing we can do for him.” I gesture to the stairs going up to the roof. “But if we could get everyone here, the ground is higher and might be safer.”
Hoisting myself out of the water, I walk up the uneven stairs now that the building is leaned over, using the handrail to keep steady. Thunder rumbles outside, rattling the entire building and every single one of my bones. This storm—or whatever the hell this is—doesn’t seem content until we’re all dead.
From beyond the concrete outer walls of the stairwell, wind howls, an ominous warning seconds before the building starts groaning even louder. Water sloshes around the steps, roughly spewing up and spraying me. Frannie has already climbed up the steps with me, but Hope is still in the water, now getting tossed away from the steps. She cries out when she hits the wall and then the corpse bumps into her.
“Get over here where it’s safe,” I yell, reaching an arm out toward her.
Hope manages to push away from the wall and grabs onto my outstretched hand. I tug her up over the railing. To her credit, she doesn’t complain about her hit to the shoulder and quickly steadies herself on her feet, having lost her high heels somewhere along the way.
The landing between Kellen’s floor and the rooftop is dry and big enough for everyone to gather, so as soon as we can, we’ll need to move everyone to the new location.
Frannie climbs the stairs ahead of me and beats on the rooftop door when she makes it there. “It’s stuck!”
I push past her and attempt to turn the knob, but it’s locked. Beside the door is an enclosed ax in a metal cage. Naturally, that’s locked too. My pocketknife is in my backpack. I’ll have to wait until I grab it unless…
“Hope, you still have that letter opener?”
She unzips the lunch bag and retrieves the shiny metal object. I take it from her and then assess the metal cage. The padlock that’s keeping it sealed shut is thick but cheap. It takes some finagling, but I manage to jam the keyhole enough times with the letter opener that it breaks something inside the lock. I let out a rush of relieved breath when I’m able to yank on the lock to free the ax.