“But I don’t understand,” Serafina had asked in confusion. “Where’s the storm water go? It’s gotta go somewhere, doesn’t it?”
“Ah, you see! There’s the trick of it. When we built this thing, Mr. Olmsted instructed his work crews to construct a long, winding brick tunnel called a flume under the pond. The tunnel goes from the inlet here, all the way underneath the pond to the far end, nigh on a thousand feet away. So, now, when it rains hard and the creek overflows with muddy storm water, the metal basket fills with sticks and debris, the weight of it tilts the mechanism, the sluice gate opens the entrance to the tunnel, and the whole mess of it pours in. The storm water and debris flows through the tunnel underneath the pond and gushes out at the far end without ever having a chance to muck up the clean water in the pond. From there, the storm water continues on its natural course down the creek, eventually ending up in the big river the way God intended.”
As her pa finished his story, Serafina could hear the reverence in his voice. “You see, Sera, you can accept things the way they are. Or you can make them better.” And Serafina knew that both her pa and Mr. Olmsted were the kind of the people who made them better.
As Serafina remembered her pa’s story, Braeden leaned down into the brick structure and used his lantern to look around inside. The stream was running strong and smooth with a large volume of rainwater pouring down into the main intake hole, but the water was clear of debris, so the metal sluice gate had not yet opened, allowing the water to flow directly into the pond.
Braeden began chucking sticks and branches into the metal basket.
“What in the world are you doing that for?” Serafina asked.
As he filled the basket with the weight of the branches, the sluice gate scraped slowly open. Braeden grabbed his equipment and climbed into the flume tunnel.
“Braeden!” she said in astonishment.
Down in a tunnel that ran beneath the pond was the last place on earth she wanted to go tonight. She’d already been buried once. She definitely didn’t want to do it again—especially if it involved getting drowned at the same time.
But as Braeden disappeared, she had no choice. She had no idea where his new recklessness was coming from, but she couldn’t let her friend go into that awful place on his own.
Pulling in a frightened breath, she climbed into the tunnel behind him.
Following the light of Braeden’s lantern ahead of her, Serafina made her way through the flume. It was a narrow brick passage with a low arched ceiling. An inch of water was running along the floor. At first the tunnel was high enough that they could both walk normally, but the farther they went, the lower and narrower the tunnel became.
She didn’t like this place one bit, but what she truly hated was the water dripping down from the ceiling onto the back of her neck, sending tingles down her shivering spine. And she hated the dark runnels of water sliding down the black, slimy, algae-coated walls like spidery tentacles. The heavy, putrid smell of the water hung in the air. She and Braeden were actually walking under the water of the pond.
As they went deeper, Serafina felt the cool temperature of the damp air, the clamminess of the walls, and the rising storm water at their feet. She wasn’t sure if the sensations she was experiencing were real or shadow, but they felt as sharp as if she herself was part of the water, part of the stone, part of the bits and pieces from which the world was made.
The water in the tunnel was soon flowing around their ankles. Braeden had forced the sluice gate open, so the stream was pouring in. She had no idea why he was going through the flume, but it was even more mystifying why he would do it now, tonight, in the middle of a rainstorm with the water gushing in. What in the world could be so important?
Crack!
Startled by the sound, Serafina hit the floor with a splash, accidentally taking in a gulp of the water.
Crack!
It was steel against brick. Then she heard a prying sound.
She got back up onto her feet and sloshed through the rising water toward Braeden. He had set the lantern on a small ledge to give himself light to work by as he dug into the tunnel floor.
Using the tip of the shovel, he pried up one of the bricks. He pulled it up out of the water, set it aside, then picked up the shovel again and started working on the next one. Working in what was now six inches of rushing water, he was digging out the floor brick by brick!
Braeden’s movement was hampered by the metal brace on his leg, but he worked with a steady deliberateness. Soon he had removed a dozen bricks. Then he reached down into the dark water, deep into a hole, and pulled out a dripping metal box.
“You’ve hidden something here,” Serafina said.
With the storm water rising by the second, Braeden seemed to understand the danger he was in. Now that he’d gotten what he’d come for, she expected he’d turn around and go back up toward the opening of the tunnel. But he didn’t. Leaving the shovel and lantern behind, he grabbed the box and continued forward into the darkness, down into the narrowest part of the flume.
“Now, where are you going, you crazy boy?” she shouted at him over the sound of the rushing water. “We’ve got to go back up!”
But he paid her no mind. As they proceeded down the tunnel, the ceiling became so low that she and Braeden could no longer walk upright. They hunched themselves down to fit, then they had to crouch. Finally they had to crawl on their hands and knees, the hinges of Braeden’s brace creaking and twisting under the strain of his bending leg. At the same time, the level of the storm water gushing through the tunnel continued to rise. The flood of water pushed hard against her, now inches from her chin, almost to the ceiling, splashing and swirling with great force around her neck and shoulders, making it more and more difficult to breathe.
As she crawled, it felt like the water wasn’t just rising around her, but dragging at her, wearing at her, pulling her skin away, tugging at her bones. Soon she’d become nothing more than tiny droplets scattered in the stream. Just hold on, she thought, gritting her teeth. I’m not done yet!
Braeden crawled faster and faster into the darkness, pushing himself through the water, pressing his mouth up toward the ceiling for air, but still dragging the metal box along with him.
Suddenly, a huge swell with a tumbling raft of branches came gushing down through the flume and crashed into them, filling the entire tunnel with water. She closed her mouth and held her breath, for whatever good that would do, and refused to die. She braced herself against the slimy brick walls so that the water couldn’t take her. She had to hold on! But it was no use. The powerful current slammed into her, tore her fingers from the walls, and pulled her somersaulting upside down through the rushing water.