Mark flopped back down, shifted around until he got comfortable. He didn’t want to dream. The raging waters, the screams of people drowning. The frantic, unbearable fear of fleeing it all. Even awake he could see that room beneath New York City where they’d first met Lana and the others. Alec’s weathered face as he explained to them that after surviving such massive sun flares, their biggest and most immediate worry now was the surge of a tsunami. The flares must have been devastating, inflicting catastrophic damage worldwide and unleashing the heat of hell itself.
Which meant a quick melting of the polar ice caps. Which meant sea levels rising at an alarming and apocalyptic rate. Which meant that the island of Manhattan would be a dozen feet underwater within a few hours. He explained all this to them while they huddled in a room far underground, where the water would seek out and drown everything in its path.
Back in the present, these thoughts tormented Mark for at least another hour—and he knew if he dreamed it would only get worse. He was scared of being scared.
He drifted off despite his efforts. Sleep came over him like cold, crashing waves.
CHAPTER 20
The Lincoln Building, one of the tallest, newest, grandest buildings in New York. One of the few with direct access to the subtrans system.
That’s where Alec keeps telling them they need to go. He says he has a full subtrans map saved on his phone, but he’s visibly worried about them being able to make it in time. Mark was able to see, even in the dim light before they headed out, that Alec has major doubts—which is contrary to the overall persona of the hardened man he seems to be. Mark would’ve guessed the man could be caged with a dozen hungry lions and he’d still only have a smirk on his face as he decided which one to kill first.
The Lincoln Building, Mark tells himself. Get there; then you can go find your family.
They are all running down one of the countless seemingly endless tunnels below the city. Alec in the lead, then the woman he said he’s had the pleasure of working with for a dozen years: Lana. A boy about Mark’s age named Darnell is next, then a girl named Misty—another teenager, but older, maybe eighteen—then a dude, also older than Mark, but short and loaded with muscles. Misty refers to him as the Toad, and he actually seems to like the moniker. Mark and Trina are next, with a boy named Baxter bringing up the rear. Baxter is the youngest of them all, maybe thirteen, but Mark can tell he’s a tough little sucker. Insisted on being in the back, said he wanted to protect everyone from surprise attacks.
As they run, Mark hopes he has enough time left in life to become friends with the kid.
“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Trina says quietly next to him. They are jogging along side by side and Mark finds himself having the ridiculous thought that it’d be nice if they were on a beach, the sun just setting on the water. He thanks the powers that be that Trina can’t read his mind.
“He does,” Mark insists. He also doesn’t want her to know how he’s almost trembling with fear of what might happen at any second, which is making it hard to run. Almost seventeen years of life, and he never knew what a coward he was.
“Tsunami.” Trina says the word like it’s the evilest thing to ever come out of her mouth. “We’re in the middle of the subtrans system in New York City and that’s supposed to be our biggest worry. A tsunami?”
“We’re underground,” Mark replies. “And our city is right by the ocean, in case you forgot. Water drains downward. Ya know, gravity and all that.”
He can sense her giving him a nasty look, and he knows he deserves it. His nerves must be finally getting to him to be such a smart aleck. He tries to save himself the only way he knows how—honesty.
“Sorry,” he mutters. The run is getting to him and he’s breathing heavily. “I’m just scared out of my mind. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t really mean it like a question. I’m just … I don’t know. Saying how crazy this is I guess. Sun flares and a tsunami. A few hours ago those words weren’t even on my radar. Not by a long shot.”
“It sucks” is the best Mark can come up with. He just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore—the more they do, the more his insides twist with distress and worry.
Alec slows down when they reach the end of the latest tunnel. He stops and turns to face them. Everyone is breathing heavily and Mark’s entire body is soaked with sweat.
“We have to go through one of the newer subtrans sections now,” Alec says. “There’s bound to be people out there, and who knows what kind of mood they might be in. Sometimes folks get downright nasty when they think the world’s about to end.”
Now that their little group is calming their breathing a bit, Mark can hear faint sounds coming from behind their leader. The hum of a crowd, people talking and bustling about. A few disturbing noises mixed in as well: distant screams, crying and wailing. The isolation of their dank little storage room doesn’t seem so bad now.
Lana picks up the line of conversation. “We just need to get through it. Walk fast, but don’t look like you know where you’re going. We can’t afford to carry anything—empty your arms and pockets or we might get attacked. We’ll just have to hope we can find things in the Lincoln Building.”
A few of them have been carrying packets of the food Trina found earlier. They dump them on the ground. The act seems to suck some of the life out of Trina.
“We’ll go through this door,” Alec says as he looks at his phone—the battery has to be close to dying. “And then jump onto the tracks. If we stay off the concourse maybe we’ll come across fewer people. Straight for about half a mile; then we can enter the doors of the stairwell for the Lincoln Building. That sucker goes all the way up to the ninetieth floor. It’s our only shot.”