the
other tanks, zeroing in on the gauges—the gauges she should have been
watching. She had a split second to register how bad the pressure was before
the tank she’d been sleeping against ten seconds earlier exploded. Steam and
scalding water burst across the room. The shriek of metal scraping metal tore
through the air. Esther hit the floor as a red-hot coil flew over her head. The
fire extinguisher rolled out of her grasp. A second tank exploded. A deafening
riot filled the air.
Esther rolled
sideways. Another tank screamed, releasing a blinding cloud of steam.
Desperately, Esther crawled over the old bowling lanes, clinging to the
scratched wooden floors. She had to shut down the system or she was going to
die. Twisted bits of melted plastic rained down around her. She could no longer
see through the smoke and steam. Another blast split the air.
Esther reached the
end of the line and crawled toward the safety valve. She yanked down on the old
piece of steel, which had once been part of a drowned sailboat. The lever
cracked and came away in her hand. Esther cursed as another eruption sent a jet
of boiling water across the room. The scalding liquid seeped into the back of
her shirt.
She groped for her
pocketknife and found nothing. She must have left it on the floor by her notes.
She pulled her precious flashlight from her belt and used it to pound at the
shortened metal of the main power switch. It took three tries to force it down
and stop the flow of electricity to the room. Everything went black.
Esther waited. The
room hissed, the usual mechanical music replaced with a painful, dying sound.
She scrubbed her nose against the acrid smell, praying that the fumes weren’t
poisonous. Gradually, the hissing of the steam grew quieter; the metal of the
tanks creaked and groaned. Not entirely sure the explosions were done, Esther
switched on her emergency light, thankful it still worked. She swept the low
beam back and forth through the fading smoke.
“Shit.”
Before her was an
ugly, tangled jungle of twisted metal. A layer of water sat in two of the
bowling lanes, seeping toward one side of the room. The mangled tanks and pipes
sagged drunkenly across the lanes. Melted plastic and burnt filters leaned into
the sweeping beam of light like corpses.
“Shit.”
Slowly, Esther got
to her feet. This was bad. This was beyond bad. The desalination system, the
source of life for the entire community of 1,003, the single most important
thing for their survival, was utterly destroyed.
Chapter 6—The Survival Plan
Esther was barely conscious of where she was going as she stumbled from the desal room. Her ears roared
like a foghorn. Had someone heard the explosions? The desal room wasn’t close
to the cabins, but anyone could have been walking by. Anyone could have heard.
She knew that would be bad. She could barely process why. She started to run.
She pushed open the doors to the service stairwell and took the steps two at a
time. It was a long climb to the top of the ship, but she didn’t slow down
until she reached the ladder to Neal’s Tower.
Her hands shook as
she pushed open the door to the crow’s nest. Neal, his feet on the control
panel, was flipping through a pile of creased and fraying charts, his
headphones slung around his neck.
He looked up. “Es,
what happened? You’re bleeding.”
Esther put a hand
to her cheek and winced at the sting.
“And you’re
soaking wet.”
“We’re in deep
trouble, Neal. Like, Mariana Trench deep.”
“Who’s ‘we’? You
picking fights with Judith or something? I always thought she’d be good in a
brawl.”
“Listen to me,”
Esther snapped. She wrapped her fingers around her tool belt to keep them from
shaking and tried to breathe deeply. Her thoughts were quicksand.
Neal took his feet
off the console with a thump. “What happened?”
“The desal system
is gone.”
“What do you
mean?”
“Gone. As in
destroyed. Gone!” Esther slid to the floor, and
other tanks, zeroing in on the gauges—the gauges she should have been
watching. She had a split second to register how bad the pressure was before
the tank she’d been sleeping against ten seconds earlier exploded. Steam and
scalding water burst across the room. The shriek of metal scraping metal tore
through the air. Esther hit the floor as a red-hot coil flew over her head. The
fire extinguisher rolled out of her grasp. A second tank exploded. A deafening
riot filled the air.
Esther rolled
sideways. Another tank screamed, releasing a blinding cloud of steam.
Desperately, Esther crawled over the old bowling lanes, clinging to the
scratched wooden floors. She had to shut down the system or she was going to
die. Twisted bits of melted plastic rained down around her. She could no longer
see through the smoke and steam. Another blast split the air.
Esther reached the
end of the line and crawled toward the safety valve. She yanked down on the old
piece of steel, which had once been part of a drowned sailboat. The lever
cracked and came away in her hand. Esther cursed as another eruption sent a jet
of boiling water across the room. The scalding liquid seeped into the back of
her shirt.
She groped for her
pocketknife and found nothing. She must have left it on the floor by her notes.
She pulled her precious flashlight from her belt and used it to pound at the
shortened metal of the main power switch. It took three tries to force it down
and stop the flow of electricity to the room. Everything went black.
Esther waited. The
room hissed, the usual mechanical music replaced with a painful, dying sound.
She scrubbed her nose against the acrid smell, praying that the fumes weren’t
poisonous. Gradually, the hissing of the steam grew quieter; the metal of the
tanks creaked and groaned. Not entirely sure the explosions were done, Esther
switched on her emergency light, thankful it still worked. She swept the low
beam back and forth through the fading smoke.
“Shit.”
Before her was an
ugly, tangled jungle of twisted metal. A layer of water sat in two of the
bowling lanes, seeping toward one side of the room. The mangled tanks and pipes
sagged drunkenly across the lanes. Melted plastic and burnt filters leaned into
the sweeping beam of light like corpses.
“Shit.”
Slowly, Esther got
to her feet. This was bad. This was beyond bad. The desalination system, the
source of life for the entire community of 1,003, the single most important
thing for their survival, was utterly destroyed.
Chapter 6—The Survival Plan
Esther was barely conscious of where she was going as she stumbled from the desal room. Her ears roared
like a foghorn. Had someone heard the explosions? The desal room wasn’t close
to the cabins, but anyone could have been walking by. Anyone could have heard.
She knew that would be bad. She could barely process why. She started to run.
She pushed open the doors to the service stairwell and took the steps two at a
time. It was a long climb to the top of the ship, but she didn’t slow down
until she reached the ladder to Neal’s Tower.
Her hands shook as
she pushed open the door to the crow’s nest. Neal, his feet on the control
panel, was flipping through a pile of creased and fraying charts, his
headphones slung around his neck.
He looked up. “Es,
what happened? You’re bleeding.”
Esther put a hand
to her cheek and winced at the sting.
“And you’re
soaking wet.”
“We’re in deep
trouble, Neal. Like, Mariana Trench deep.”
“Who’s ‘we’? You
picking fights with Judith or something? I always thought she’d be good in a
brawl.”
“Listen to me,”
Esther snapped. She wrapped her fingers around her tool belt to keep them from
shaking and tried to breathe deeply. Her thoughts were quicksand.
Neal took his feet
off the console with a thump. “What happened?”
“The desal system
is gone.”
“What do you
mean?”
“Gone. As in
destroyed. Gone!” Esther slid to the floor, and
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