Looking down the tunnel, I saw hundreds of wet heads, hands grappling for anything. They had been thousands strong, but not anymore. Every few minutes, someone let go and was swept screaming down the tunnel.
“The water is lessening!”
Dully I looked over at Strepp, who was clutching the top of the maintenance doorframe. Her face was white and determined; her dark hair hung in rough, wet strands.
Had she said something? I couldn’t tell. My mind was dead, I couldn’t focus my eyes. Even the noise seemed to be fading out of my consciousness. I turned back to watch the water still flowing out of the smaller tunnel. I blinked in numb confusion as a large dark shape was swept out and swirled for a few moments in a horrible eddy in front of me.
I blinked again even as adrenaline woke my brain. Suddenly I felt the pain and the cold all over again, I heard the rush of the water and the screams of the kids.
It was a body, facedown and limp, slowly bumping and turning closer to me. I stared—the shape, the hair, that tan hand, hard-knuckled from training…
“Becca!” I screamed. Holding on to the beam with one hand, I reached out, leaning over as far as I dared. I swiped at her and missed. But on the next try I grabbed Becca’s shirt and pulled her to me. I jumped down into the chest-high water, bracing myself against the I-beam so I wouldn’t get torn away.
“Becca!” I yelled again, and with difficulty turned her over. My heart stopped, my eyes stared in disbelief, and I almost threw up. Her face was pale blue and ice cold. Her lips were white, and a thin trickle of water came out of her mouth.
“Becca!” I shook her as hard as I could, and it was like shaking a limp, heavy doll.
Becca, my twin, my sister, my only living relative—was dead.
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“TIM!” I SCREAMED, LOOKING FOR him. He saw me, saw Becca, and instantly leaped into the water, fighting its strong current to get to me. We both held her and I saw the same horrible realization on his face. Becca was dead.
The water had slowed and the level was now barely past my waist.
Becca! I cried silently. Why now? Why couldn’t you have held on just a little longer?
Something bumped into me—another body. My mind was in such chaos that it took me several seconds to recognize Nate. I grabbed his pant leg and pulled him toward me. He swirled against a wooden barrier, hitting his head, and the jolt seemed to wake him up. His hands limply reached out, then clawed at the wood to hang on.
“Nate!” I shouted, but he didn’t hear me, just draped himself over the wooden barrier and lost consciousness. Leaving Becca with Tim, I waded through the water and put my hand on his head. “Nate! It’s me, Cassie!” He didn’t open his eyes or move. Was he close to death?
The water was definitely receding. I went back to Tim, still holding Becca. His face was ashen. Of course. He loved Becca. He loved Becca.
One by one, kids were dropping off whatever they’d held on to. They stood, some hunched over, in the knee-high water.
“She can’t be dead,” I told Tim hoarsely. “She can’t be dead because I’m still here. I’m here. There’s no Cassie without Becca. And no Becca without Cassie.”
“Becca?”
I whirled to see Nate standing weakly next to me. I threw my arms around him, and he hugged me back. It felt like I was holding him upright.
“She hit her head,” Nate wheezed. “I couldn’t reach her.”
I looked into his eyes, and all of our memories rushed back. Nate. He was here, alive. But not Becca.
“Here!” Tim said urgently and put Becca upside down over his knee. He patted her back with increasing firmness while I held her hair out of her face, unable to breathe. This was Becca. Becca’s body. Nate stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He looked sick and bruised and we were both trembling. He didn’t have to say it—I could tell: He’d almost died himself.
Ms. Strepp splashed through the water, taking count of who was left, helping kids back on their feet, checking weapons. She glanced at us, saw us working on Becca, and gave me an uninterpretable look.
“Assemble!” she shouted down the tunnel. “Weapons ready! This is it! We have fifteen seconds!”
“She’s going to blow the tunnel no matter what!” Nate said.
“She’s got a schedule to keep,” Tim said grimly, and whammed Becca’s back again. More water trickled out of her mouth.
“This isn’t working!” I said. I started CPR, quick pushes on her chest to the count of five, then listening for a heartbeat. Then the world exploded.
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