She looked down at the black, swirling water. This was it.
“You know this kind of reminds me of a joke I heard once … Bad timing, I know, but let’s call it payback for that gash back at the restaurant. Two black guys are fishing off a bridge. They both have to take a pee. One opens his fly and his thing drops all the way into the water. ‘My, this water’s cold …’ he says, and beams at his friend with pride. So his friend opens up his fly and his drops all the way to the water, too. ‘Yeah’—he smiles back to his buddy, ‘and it sure is deep.’ It sure is deep.” He laughed. “Get what I’m saying.”
Dani spun and tried to strike him in the face, her fists locked together. But Robertson avoided it easily and hoisted her up by the waist. “You’re right. Maybe it wasn’t so funny after all. Enjoy the swim.”
He pushed her over. Dani let out a scream. She fell, hitting the surface in a ball, the water cold and oily and metallic. She kicked up to the surface, her arms in front of her. Robertson was still standing over her, leaning over the railing, a satisfied smirk on his face. He gave her a wave.
She knew she had to conserve her strength. Thrashing around in the ice-cold water could easily sap it. She brought up her knees and pulled off her unlaced Converses, tossing them back in the water, and flutter-kicked to the side of the tank and held on to a railing there.
The water kept rising, the river pouring in. The first thing she had to do if she had any chance was to get her hands free. Her wrists were bound with a synthetic boating rope. She dug at the knots frantically with her teeth, trying to loosen them. Robertson just kept watching her from above, amused; the whole thing was almost like an entertainment to him. What did it even matter if she got free? In minutes the tank would fill completely. In a short time, she was going to drown in here anyway.
Heart pounding, she glanced up. The water continued to rise. She gauged she was about twenty feet from the top.
Twenty feet. Maybe all of eight minutes.
Finally the water rose to within a foot or two of Robertson on the catwalk. “Don’t stay in too long …” He waved. “And watch out for that current. I hear it’s a doozie.” He laughed and opened the outside door, which Dani saw had pressurized sealed mechanisms, and locked it behind him, completely sealing her in.
She was trapped now.
Frantically, she dug even harder at her binds. Water splashing over her, going into her mouth; she managed to loosen one just enough that she created a small space and wiggled her wrist free. She looked up at the ceiling one more time, and saw it getting closer. She had to climb to a higher rung. Finally she got it free enough to squeeze one wrist through, then she feverishly pulled at the other knot, the water making the cord a bit soggy, which made it harder to loosen, until she pried her other wrist through.
She was free.
But free for what? To rise up with the water to the top of the tank and drown.
The catwalk where Robertson had just been standing was now underwater, so Dani swam across, took a breath, and dived down to the spot where the door was. It had a sealed window on it. Dani tugged at the bar, trying to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.
It was locked from outside.
She was in a massive tank with no way out, and the ceiling was coming closer to her with every second.
Panic began to set in. There was nothing she could do but ride it all the way to the top. Maybe there’d be a bit of air space up there, enough to breathe for a while. But ultimately, she’d give out. They would drain the tank to recover her body. Even if she miraculously lasted until they checked, they would kill her then.
She looked up and saw she was within ten feet of the top now. There had to be another way out. There had to be.
Then something flashed into her head. Maybe something she had learned in college. In Geology 101. Or was it physics? About water in a vacuum: the displacement and different levels of unequal pressure balancing.
How certain oceanic canyons were made.
She thought that maybe there was a chance that could be at work here. If it wasn’t, she would surely drown. But if she stayed where she was, she knew she’d be dead in a few minutes anyway.
Please, let this work.
Dani sucked a huge gulp of air into her lungs and dove, scissor-kicking against the current, until she made it all the way down to the open, conduit valves where the river water was pouring in. Maybe forty feet below.
If she could somehow fit herself through the opening, there might just be air pockets in there.
It seemingly took a full minute to swim her way down. Only someone strong and trained, who knew how to swim against fast currents, would have even made it. The wide, open pipes were about six feet from the bottom, the resistance even stronger there, water pouring in. It was like a huge Jacuzzi jet battling against her. Treading water, her lungs starting to strain, she tried to gauge the width of the open pipe.
Three feet across at most. Enough to squeeze herself through, she prayed.
Her lungs were aching now. She moved toward the opening and the current flung her back.
Don’t panic. It had been over a minute now and the water was blowing forcefully all around her, dozens of gallons pouring in every second, hurling her back into the tank. It was like trying to climb up against a waterfall.
Pain started to rip her insides apart. She flutter-kicked and came at it from the side. She didn’t have much time. Maybe only one last try. She clenched her teeth, air bubbles escaping.
This had to be it.
Dani locked on to the rim of the large pipe and joyfully saw what she was praying to see.
Water was streaming in, but it hadn’t filled the inside of the conduit completely. The water in the tank hadn’t displaced against the greater pressure coming in and filled the space.
That meant there were air pockets in there.