Chapter 13
The metal pipe sloped steeply downward, accelerating their descent as the rushing rainwater pushed against their backs with mounting hydraulic force. Clara scrambled blindly, her shins bruising against the corrugated ribs, the freezing water soaking through her grey long-sleeve shirt until her skin burned with cold.
Ahead of her, David’s boots suddenly stopped moving. A dull, metallic clang echoed through the tube, followed by a muffled curse.
"What is it?" Clara called out, her voice tight, nearly lost in the roar of the water echoing through the drainage system.
"It’s the gate!" David shouted back, his voice thick with panic. "Beatrice was right! The municipal sluice gate is locked shut!"
Clara clawed her way forward until she collided with David’s back. She shone her phone light—the battery flickering weakly, down to four percent—ahead into the junction box. Six feet away, a heavy cast-iron grate blocked the end of the pipe, held in place by a massive padlock and chain secured to the concrete spillway. Beyond the grate, the blinding sheets of an autumn downpour blurred the streetlights of Oakridge Avenue.
Beatrice was pressed against the iron bars, coughing violently, her white hair plastered to her skull by the spray of water bouncing back from the sealed gate.
"The chain!" Beatrice gasped, pointing a trembling finger at the rusty padlock. "Julian must have had the city maintenance crew lock it down yesterday morning to prevent anyone from checking the foundation runoff!"
Clara reached past David and Beatrice, her fingers brushing against the cold iron of the chain. She pulled the heavy leather ledger from her shirt with her left hand, using its metal clasp to hammer frantically at the rusted padlock.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The metal made a pathetic, hollow sound against the thick steel of the lock, doing nothing except attracting the attention of the footsteps echoing behind them in the drainage pipe.
"They're in the pipe," David whispered, his eyes wide and unseeing in the dying glow of Clara’s phone screen.
Clara turned her head. Thirty feet back up the dark corrugated tunnel, two glowing points of light pierced the gloom—the high-powered tactical flashlight held by Julian as he crawled effortlessly through the narrow space, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed.
"Give it up, Clara!" Julian’s voice echoed metallically through the drainage tube, distorted and monstrous. "You can't break that lock! Hand over the ledger and get back in the pipe!"
Clara swung back around, desperation overriding fear. She grabbed the heavy iron corner of the sluice gate with both hands and heaved with every ounce of strength left in her body. The water surged around her waist, lifting her slightly off the concrete floor, but the gate didn't budge a millimeter.
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The battery symbol on her phone flashed red once, twice—and died. Total darkness descended instantly, broken only by the faint, distant amber glow of the streetlights filtering through the iron grate just inches from her face.
***
