exploded, sending a high-powered jet of water into the room. Ennis backed away in surprise. His legs hit the edge of the bathtub and he fell inside. He landed on his back and looked up to see the shower head explode the same way, spewing a pressurized jet of water down on him. The tub faucets were next, shooting off the wall as gallons of water spewed into the room . . . more water than seemed possible. The toilet was next. It was rocked off of its base by a geyser of water that shot high and hit the ceiling, sending water cascading back into the room.
It took Ennis several seconds to gather his wits and pull himself out of the tub. There was so much water spewing into the room from so many sources that the small bathroom began to fill up. In seconds the water level had reached his ankles. Ennis splashed for the door and grabbed the handle but it wouldn't turn. He was locked inside. He yanked des perately on the knob but the door wouldn't budge. There was one large window in the bathroom. Ennis went for it and struggled to lift it but the window would not open.
The water had reached his knees and was rising fast. A strange calm came over Ennis. He had made a decision. A tough decision, but in that insane moment of impossibility he finally felt clarity. It was a good feeling. The children were right. Hiding wasn't an option. The fear wouldn't go away. Action had to be taken or they'd be lost.
He didn't panic. It was as if he understood that what was happening was impossible, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath to keep his heart from racing, and moved deliberately to the sink. Looking into the mirror, he saw that the spirit was gone, though he knew Damon was still there. Somewhere. As water poured down over him, he pulled open the mirror that covered the medicine cabinet. Inside was a black Sharpie pen. He grabbed it, then glanced down to see that the water had reached his waist. Float ing on the surface were several empty potato chip bags. He grabbed one and tore it apart until he had a rough piece of white plastic the size of a playing card. The vanity was already underwater so Ennis had to put the paper against the tiled wall in order to write on it. It took only a few seconds to scribble the message with the black marker. Sat isfied that his words were legible, he tossed the pen and squeezed the paper into his hand.
Above the sound of roaring water, Ennis heard another sound that was even more incongruous. It was the sweet sound of steel drum music. Being Jamaican, he was as famil iar with the sound as he was with any other instrument. Rather than question why he was hearing it, he let the music calm him. The song reminded him of when he was a boy. Of soft white sand and warm tropical water. He turned to look out the window, but rather than seeing a view of New York, Ennis saw the shore of his home. A bright blue fishing boat sat beneath a small grove of palm trees on a white-sand beach under a warm Jamaican sun.
The water had reached Ennis's chest. It wouldn't be long before it filled the room. He briefly wondered if it was pos sible to drown in an illusion. He focused on the window. On home. Ennis wanted to be there. He knew in his heart that he could make it. He also knew that he would first have to make another stop. It was a stop he was prepared to make. That he wanted to make.
He was tired of being a victim.
Marsh and Sydney hurried away from Ennis's building, headed back toward McSorley's to grab a cab to Grand Central.
"This is wrong," Sydney declared angrily. "How can you just walk away and leave him unprotected like that?"
"It's what he wanted."
"He's out of his mind! Nobody can make rational choices when they're in such bad shape. This was a totally wasted—"
She was cut off by the sound of smashing glass that was quickly followed by a terrified scream.
Marsh stopped short. "Oh my god," he muttered to himself.
He didn't have to look to know what was happening. Sydney did. She
It took Ennis several seconds to gather his wits and pull himself out of the tub. There was so much water spewing into the room from so many sources that the small bathroom began to fill up. In seconds the water level had reached his ankles. Ennis splashed for the door and grabbed the handle but it wouldn't turn. He was locked inside. He yanked des perately on the knob but the door wouldn't budge. There was one large window in the bathroom. Ennis went for it and struggled to lift it but the window would not open.
The water had reached his knees and was rising fast. A strange calm came over Ennis. He had made a decision. A tough decision, but in that insane moment of impossibility he finally felt clarity. It was a good feeling. The children were right. Hiding wasn't an option. The fear wouldn't go away. Action had to be taken or they'd be lost.
He didn't panic. It was as if he understood that what was happening was impossible, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath to keep his heart from racing, and moved deliberately to the sink. Looking into the mirror, he saw that the spirit was gone, though he knew Damon was still there. Somewhere. As water poured down over him, he pulled open the mirror that covered the medicine cabinet. Inside was a black Sharpie pen. He grabbed it, then glanced down to see that the water had reached his waist. Float ing on the surface were several empty potato chip bags. He grabbed one and tore it apart until he had a rough piece of white plastic the size of a playing card. The vanity was already underwater so Ennis had to put the paper against the tiled wall in order to write on it. It took only a few seconds to scribble the message with the black marker. Sat isfied that his words were legible, he tossed the pen and squeezed the paper into his hand.
Above the sound of roaring water, Ennis heard another sound that was even more incongruous. It was the sweet sound of steel drum music. Being Jamaican, he was as famil iar with the sound as he was with any other instrument. Rather than question why he was hearing it, he let the music calm him. The song reminded him of when he was a boy. Of soft white sand and warm tropical water. He turned to look out the window, but rather than seeing a view of New York, Ennis saw the shore of his home. A bright blue fishing boat sat beneath a small grove of palm trees on a white-sand beach under a warm Jamaican sun.
The water had reached Ennis's chest. It wouldn't be long before it filled the room. He briefly wondered if it was pos sible to drown in an illusion. He focused on the window. On home. Ennis wanted to be there. He knew in his heart that he could make it. He also knew that he would first have to make another stop. It was a stop he was prepared to make. That he wanted to make.
He was tired of being a victim.
Marsh and Sydney hurried away from Ennis's building, headed back toward McSorley's to grab a cab to Grand Central.
"This is wrong," Sydney declared angrily. "How can you just walk away and leave him unprotected like that?"
"It's what he wanted."
"He's out of his mind! Nobody can make rational choices when they're in such bad shape. This was a totally wasted—"
She was cut off by the sound of smashing glass that was quickly followed by a terrified scream.
Marsh stopped short. "Oh my god," he muttered to himself.
He didn't have to look to know what was happening. Sydney did. She
Similar Books
Space Station Crisis: Star Challengers Book 2
Kevin J. Anderson, Rebecca Moesta, June Scobee Rodgers
