“What is that?” she shouts.
Mark shakes his head, keeps sweeping his gaze around the tunnel. The floor vibrates below his feet and the rumbling sound gets louder, becomes an outright roar. His eyes fall upon the stairs that lead up from the subtrans concourse just as the screams erupt—countless, countless screams and the blur of panicked movement in the crowd.
A monstrous wall of filthy water is pouring down the wide steps.
Chapter 21
Mark woke up. Not with a scream or a shout, and he didn’t bolt upright or gasp or anything as dramatic as that. He just opened his eyes, and realized right away that they were moist with tears and his face was wet. The sun had come up, shining brightly through the trees.
The wall of water.
He’d never, never forget what it had been like to see it rushing down those stairs like some kind of living beast. And the horror of watching it sweep away the first people at the bottom.
“Are you okay?”
Trina. Great.
He quickly wiped at his face and turned toward her, hoping that somehow she didn’t know he’d been bawling his eyes out while sleeping. But one glance at her killed that hope. She looked like a concerned parent.
“Um, hey,” he murmured. He felt so awkward. “Good morning. How’s it going?”
“Mark, I’m not an idiot. Tell me what’s wrong.”
He looked at her, trying to communicate with his eyes that he didn’t want to talk about it. Then he saw Deedee, leaning against a tree a few feet away, peeling the bark off a twig. Her face wasn’t necessarily happy, but at least that look of utter gloom was gone. That was a start.
“Mark?”
He turned back to Trina. “I just … I had a bad dream.”
“About what?”
“You know what.”
She frowned. “But what part of it? It might help to talk about it.”
“I don’t think so.” Mark sighed, then realized he wasn’t being very nice. She was just trying to help him feel better. “It was right before the water rushed in at that concourse. When we fought off those wannabe gangsters. I woke up just as the bad part began.” The bad part. Like everything before that was a picnic in the park with Grandma.
Trina’s gaze fell to the ground. “I wish you could stop having those dreams. We made it, and that’s all that matters. Somehow you need to let go of the past.” An apologetic expression came over her face. “I mean, easier said than done. I guess I just wish you could let go of the past. That’s all.”
“I know, I know. Me too.”
He reached out and patted her on the knee, which seemed stupid in that situation, but Alec and Lana were just returning from getting fresh water from the stream.
“How’s she doing?” he asked Trina, shooting a glance at Deedee.
“Really well, I think. She hasn’t opened up yet about much, but at least she seems comfortable around me. I can’t imagine the terror that poor thing was going through after she was left behind.”
That stirred up the anger once again inside Mark. “How could they? I mean … what kind of losers …”
Trina nodded. “Yeah … but I don’t know. Desperate times and all that.”
“Yeah, but she can’t be more than four years old!” He was doing that combination of whispering and shouting at the same time. He didn’t want Deedee to hear, but he couldn’t help it. It made him so angry.
“I know,” Trina said softly. “I know.”
Lana stepped up to them, her eyes showing that she understood how he felt.
“We better get on the road,” she said. “We’ll figure things out.”
The day dragged and dragged.
At first Mark was wary of the people from Deedee’s village, still worried about the direction she’d pointed when they’d asked her where they went. If the girl had been right, that meant they were out here somewhere, doing who knew what. He had no real reason to fear them—they were just people like anyone else. Running from an attack, running from a disease. There was just something ominous about the way Deedee had spoken of them. And he could see so clearly in his mind her pointing at her wound with such an accusatory glare. It all unsettled him.
After a few hours of not seeing any sign of them, he relaxed into the drudgery of walking, walking and then more walking. Through the forest, crossing streams and pushing through the brush. Wondering if there was any purpose in going to this place they sought.