J. Mitchell - Midnight City

“What the hell is that?” Mira asked behind him.

Holt refocused, looked up. Something black and otherworldly loomed out of the water ahead of them. It wasn’t a building or any kind of car or truck. It was contorted and warped, frozen solid where it had fallen. As they approached it, Holt’s mind found shapes within it that he recognized. But just barely.

An Assembly Spider walker, one of the big ones. It normally would have stood thirty feet tall, but this one was crumpled in the floodwaters, resting on the bottom and near unrecognizable.

It had been difficult for Holt to make out exactly what it was, mainly due to the strange substance that had completely covered it. It looked like rust, if rust could be burned, blackened, and melted. The substance, whatever it was, looked weblike, almost organic, and the Spider had been consumed underneath it, losing all its distinctive shape.

Nearby, covered in water, were two Mantis walkers. Less of their bodies poked through to the surface, they were nowhere near as large, but the black rustlike growth had consumed what was revealed of them, too. Holt had never seen anything like it.

“What did that to them?” Mira asked.

“I don’t know,” Holt said.

“The water,” Zoey said into his ear. “They couldn’t escape it.”

“What couldn’t escape it?”

“Them,” she said.

Holt looked at her, her chin on his shoulder, staring at him with tired eyes. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant…

…and then stopped as he noticed something disturbing.

The water was no longer at his knees. It was up to his thighs now. And he could feel it flowing past him in the direction they were headed. Up until now, it had been stagnant and still.

Holt’s eyes widened at the implication.

“What?” Mira asked, stopping next to him.

Max whined, sensing Holt’s discomfort. It didn’t stop him from swimming in lazy circles, though.

Holt didn’t answer. He turned around, looked behind him. The floodplains stretched backwards to where they had come from, endless and long, flanked by the cliffs. And in the far distance, they were swelling and moving toward them.

Alarmed, Mira looked behind them. She saw it, too. A wall of water was barreling down on them. And fast.

“It’s a flash flood,” Holt said.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Mira yelled. “ More water?”

Holt pushed forward through the murk as fast as he could.

Ahead of them, the first buildings of the ruined city loomed out of the black water like ghosts in the fading afternoon light.

They rushed for them as the flood gained on them from behind. They could hear it now, slamming against the cliffs on either side, rushing toward them.

What was left of a dry cleaners was directly in their path, its windows broken and empty, its roof teetering above the water.

They pushed desperately toward it. An old metal Dumpster sat to the side of the building, rusting but still in one piece. If they could get to it, they might be able to reach the roof. Holt moved for—

The flood caught them, tossing them forward like they weighed nothing.

They crashed hard into the side of the building. The raging waters ripped a screaming Zoey off Holt’s back. Mira just managed to grab the little girl’s hand as she flew by, pulled her back in.

They were pinned in place for the moment. But the water level was rising, faster and faster, threatening to rip them all away.

Holt looked up at the roof. It was their only shot, but even with the risen water level, it was still out of reach.

“Give me Zoey!” Holt shouted to Mira over the flood.

She did, handing the little girl off to him. Holt planted himself against the side of the building and lifted her toward the roof.

“Zoey, grab on!” he yelled. The little girl found a handhold on the roof’s edge, pulled herself up and over.

Holt pulled Mira to him roughly, his hands encircling her waist.

“Hey!” she shouted in surprise.

“Slap me later,” he said as he lifted her lithe figure upward. “Zoey! Grab her hand!”

The little girl leaned over the roof’s edge, found Mira’s hand, and pulled it onto the roof edge, where she could find purchase.

As Mira pulled herself up, Holt pushed from below. She scrambled onto the roof, out of the water.

The flood was getting stronger, threatening now to pull Holt off the building wall and drag him away.

He grabbed Max by the neck. The dog yelped, but Holt ignored him. He lifted the mutt up to Mira. When her hands touched him, the dog growled and barked testily.

“Cut it out! I’m trying to help!” Mira yelled, yanking Max up and over onto the roof.

Only Holt was left. He looked up at Mira. She looked down at him.

Holt read it in her eyes. She was thinking it through. And he knew what her thoughts were. It was a simple choice, to help him or not to help him. She could easily let the water take him (and all her problems) away. Just like that.

If Holt were her, it would be an easy decision. He’d let him go. He’d eliminate the bounty hunter who wanted to take him home to be killed. Why should she save him? When survival said that she should let him die?

But a part of him hoped she wouldn’t. The part that had come to believe they had a connection, in spite of their differences. He realized he wanted that connection to be confirmed. And he didn’t like how strong those feelings were becoming.

Time seemed to slow. What really was a second or two seemed like minutes, the two staring at each other, each reading the other’s thoughts…

…and then, Mira frowned. She reached downward, offered her hand.

Holt didn’t have time to be relieved. He reached up for it with his left hand, and her grip wrapped around the thick black bracelet on his wrist. Together, with her pulling and him scrambling along the wall, he climbed up and over the edge.

When he was on top, out of the water, he collapsed to the roof, breathing heavy. He heard the floodwaters still rushing by below.

Max leapt on him, started licking his face clean. Holt didn’t have enough energy to stop him.

“Holt!” he heard Zoey exclaim, felt her hug him, her head sink to his chest. “You’re not dead!”

“Knock on wood next chance I get,” he replied, exhausted.

He looked for Mira, and saw her sitting along the edge of the roof, her back to him, hugging her knees, watching the sun set behind the cliffs to the west. The floodwaters rushed by below, dragging with them all kinds of debris—barrels, tires, car doors, a refrigerator.

She was motionless as she sat there.

“Mira’s happy, too,” Zoey said. “Don’t worry.”

Wishful thinking, Holt knew.

He, Zoey, and Max sat down next to Mira, watching the sky darken into hues of orange above them.

“Here,” Holt said, pulling a piece of strawberry taffy from his pack and handing it to Zoey. “Give it to Max.”

“The Max gets candy!” Zoey shouted, giving it to the dog. He sucked the whole thing into his mouth excitedly… and then painstakingly started trying to chew the tough piece of sugary goodness. Zoey laughed.

Holt turned back to the sunset. He didn’t look at Mira. She didn’t look at him. They just sat next to each other quietly, distant and close at the same time.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment.

Mira nodded. “Yeah.”

They sat that way a long time, listening to the sounds of the water rushing by below, until the light finally began to fade and the sky darkened.

They didn’t say anything else. There was nothing else to say.

THE SKY CONTINUED TO DARKEN as the colors faded, the clouds becoming floating silhouettes of charcoal and black above them. When Holt stood up, he finally had a moment to really look at where they were. The roof of the dry cleaner’s was one building in what used to be small town America from the World Before.