Chapter Forty-Three

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

COUNTDOWN TO ZERO HOUR 03 MINUTES

IF STEVE DIDN’T flip the switch to activate the pump soon, opening the sluice gate would be the only option left.

“Look—”

“No,” Steve said, cutting Joss off. “There’s no time. You went on this mission because it had to be done. And I respect the hell out of you for it. But don’t disappoint me now and try to talk me out of it like you’re some hero martyr. We both know I’m going to do it.”

There was a beat when neither of them spoke. Then, deadpan, Joss said, “I was just going to tell you which switch it was.”

One wouldn’t think laughter was possible in the bleakest of times in the darkest of places, but for a very, very brief moment, it was.

“There will be three switches,” Joss said, her smile quickly fading. “ Off, auto, and hand . Hand is the one you want. Flip it.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

There was another beat where it seemed like someone should say something, but neither knew what that might be. So Steve turned with a deep breath and started down the stairs. The water rose higher and higher on his body, and just before he got to the point at which he would have to let go of the railing and start swimming, Joss called his name. He turned.

“Are you sure?” she said.

“I knew you weren’t so tough.”

Joss was crying. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry it had to be you.”

“I know,” Steve said. “Look after my boy.”

Joss nodded that she would, and with that, he dipped fully into the water.

As he made his way over to the panel, an all-too-familiar sensation hit him, but this time, he didn’t need to look down. He knew the radiation was eating through the hazmat suit as the cold shock of water on his skin immediately transformed into searing pain. His radiation burns came alive at the fresh dose, far more potent than the last. He let out a cry as the intensity of the pain robbed him of control of his movements and his body began to drift.

“Steve!” Joss called.

“I’m fine!” he managed as he slowly trudged back in the right direction. “Stay there!” The construction siding holding the water back like a dam started to wobble in the moving water as he approached.

“Easy!” Joss yelled.

Steve slowed his progress, smoothing out his strokes. He was getting there… he was almost there… steady… steady. Everything was looking good.

Taking hold of a pipe on the wall to anchor himself, he planted both feet and reached out to the panel. It swung open easily, and there they were. Three switches, labeled clear as day: OFF. AUTO. HAND .

Steve reached out, groaning in pain, then paused to reposition himself. As he leaned far over the siding, his grip on the pipe slipped, and his elbow smacked into the top of it. The siding slipped out of its hold, releasing a torrential flow of water where all had once been dry. The panel was now soaked.

Steve lost his grip on the pipe. The world went quiet as his head dipped under the water.

Sunlight across Claire’s weightless red hair. Matt’s little fingers tying the wrong knot.

Hearing Joss calling his name from a distance, he popped back up.

“No! Stop!” he yelled to Joss as he reached for the panel. He could still get there before the wires got wet. It could still work. The switch labeled HAND was right there, and just as he went to grab it, sparks shot out from behind all three. Grabbing the switch, he flipped it up—

And nothing happened.

Joss watched him flip it up and down several more times to see if anything would happen. Nothing did, but by that time she was already swimming toward him. He cried out in pain as she took him under an arm, then with her other hand, grabbed the pipe on the wall to hold them both up.

“Steve!” she said as he coughed under his mask until he ripped it off entirely—what was the point now anyway? As he came to, realizing what had just happened, they looked at each other and for a split second, they shared a devastating moment of disappointment. Before he could say anything, she spoke.

“Let’s finish this.”

Together, they swam to the other side of the subbasement where the wheels were. The plastic of her hood’s face shield was beginning to fog over and Joss became aware of a dull tingling sensation across her skin. Soon, the tingling turned to burning. Her head started to pound. She was shocked at how quickly it had set in, far faster than she had anticipated. And if this was how she felt, she couldn’t image how Steve was still managing.

Glancing over, she saw that he barely was. After helping him to the wheel, she positioned him against the wall with one hand holding on to a pipe and made sure he was secure before taking the wheel opposite him. It was now, right now. They had to get this done. Soon, neither of them would be able to.

The wheels were under the water at what would have been waist height had they been standing. She lodged her feet between the pipes so there would be something to resist her movements underwater. Steve adjusted himself similarly, anchoring his feet like hers.

“On the count of three,” Joss said, ripping the mask off her face so he could hear and see her more clearly. “One. Two. Three!”

They both screamed as they twisted. Screams of pain. Screams of exertion. Screams of grief. They tried again. Over and over, she counted down and they’d twist together—but it didn’t feel like the wheels were budging. And the water wasn’t moving. Or was it? She couldn’t tell. Or could she? She didn’t know anything anymore. There was only pain.

Everything moved in slow motion. She could hardly hear her own voice yelling over and over as she and Steve stood across from each other twisting and twisting. She stared at the waterline against the wall. Watching it, praying for it to go down.

But it stayed. Right there. Rising.

Joss had no choice but to admit that this might be it. Not only were they not going to survive, but this whole plan might not work at all. Which meant all of it would have been… for nothing?

After all this. After all the work and effort and sacrifices this day had seen, the fire was still going to start. They wouldn’t be able to stop it. It would mean ruin for millions of people. Families. Friends. Communities. All gone.

Joss’s thoughts began to drift to places elsewhere. Right now, right that moment, what were people in those other places doing? While right now, right at that moment, she and Steve were deciding what their fate would be.

She thought of the engineers in the control room watching the gauges, waiting for the open-gate light to come on. President Dawson standing by the phone. Marion tucking Brianna into one of the bunk beds. Carla at the church with the community. Their community. Their home.

She also pictured the people she didn’t know but could imagine. In hospitals, in traffic jams, in prayer groups, in protests. The masses huddled around their TVs, the individuals scrolling on their phones. The firefighters at the plant, the firefighters in the community. The people they saved, the people they lost—the people for whom the jury was still out.

Matt, alone, staring out the hallway window at the now pitch-black campus down below, the occasional glow of dying embers a reminder of his father’s life’s work. As they went out, a tribute to his father’s life’s end.

Ethan at the back of the control room, remembering everything said from today to years ago—and thinking of everything not said at the door minutes ago.

That, Joss thought as her hands tightened their grip on the wheel, was what their sacrifice was for. All that life, all that love. That was what was at stake. And now, in their failure, what would happen to it all? This moment was the last chance for all those lives, all those hopes and dreams. It was all in their hands.

Joss stared at the waterline. Rising. Holding.

Holding… holding…