stirred inside, rising through the panic like dark shadowy ghosts.
He reached beneath Bryce's shoulder and struck out for the side of the tunnel, digging his heels into the firm ground below. Carried along by the momentum of the water and his own efforts, he crashed into the wall. He desperately clung to the other man as their bodies were spun round, once, twice; on the third spin his grasping hand found purchase. They had been swept back as far as the metal-ribbed section of the tunnel, the station platform probably just a short distance away in the darkness. Culver clung there, holding Bryce to his chest with his other arm, gasping in air and praying that the surge would not grow any stronger.
When he had regained his breath, he called out for McEwen, but there was no answer. Maybe he couldn't hear above the noise. He might have found a hold somewhere and be hanging on for dear life just out of earshot. Culver doubted his own hopes, for inside the station itself the walls were smooth with nothing to cling to. Unless McEwen had managed to scramble onto the platform, he had no chance of preventing himself from being swept through into the next tunnel. light suddenly skimmed along the surface of the broiling water from the other direction, the glare dazzling him.
Fairbank! Fairbank was still back there! This time he called out to the engineer, but again doubted his voice could be heard.
Bryce began to stir and Culver drew him upwards, so that their faces were level.
'Can you move, Bryce? We've got to get back along the tunnel before the water rises any further.' A thought struck him, one that he pushed away, refusing to worry over it at that stage. One thing at a time, Culver, just one thing at a time.
Bryce tried to reply, but the words were inaudible.
Holding the Civil Defence officer's arm tightly, Culver began to edge his way forward once more. A shape rushed by, reflected highlights from the torchlight giving it some form. Another shape, and this time its face was pointed upwards, protruding from the water like a death mask. Oh God, thought Culver, somewhere else in the lower regions of the city others had been taking shelter, perhaps in another station further along the line, perhaps in the tunnels themselves - possibly even the sewers - and they had been flushed out by the flood. Another body sped by, arms outstretched and hands clawed as if the corpse was still angry at its fate. Perhaps by now the whole of the Underground system had become one vast catacomb.
The light was closer and Culver realized that Fairbank was coming back for them. He renewed his efforts, fighting against exhaustion as well as the tide. Fortunately, Bryce had revived enough to help himself a little.
The journey was easier for Fairbank, who was travelling with the flow, and soon he was next to them, shining the light directly into their faces.
'Thank God you're all right,' he yelled. 7 thought that was the last I'd see of you.' He shone the torch past them. 'Where's McEwen?'
Culver could only shake his head.
Fairbank stared into the distance, hoping to see the lost man. He soon gave up the search. 'You ready to try again?' he asked Culver.
7s there a choice?'
'None at all.'
'Then I'm ready.'
As the engineer turned away, Culver held his arm and pulled him close. 'I thought of something a moment ago.'
'Oh yeah?'
'What...' Culver struggled to voice the concern. 'What if we can't get back inside? What if the shelter itself is flooded?'
'Didn't you notice the door we left by? It's sealed. It'll hold out any water.'
'Not if they have to open it for us.'
Fairbank thought about it, then yelled back, 'Like I said, we got no choice.'
Culver eased Bryce around him so that the injured man was in front. They kept him sandwiched between them as they made their way forward again.
It was a long, long, painstaking haul, but mercifully the force against them did not increase. They were aware of more bodies floating by, but by now corpses had become nothing new and nothing to spend thought on.
It couldn't have been hours - it only felt like it - when they reached the recessed door. They collapsed into the opening, careful to keep their feet and relieved that some of the pressure decreased slightly.
Fairbank began pounding on the metal surface with the end of his torch.
Culver felt Bryce beginning to sink once again and he held on to him tightly, knowing he would not be able to keep his grip for too long; now that they had reached comparative safety his strength was fading fast. Last time it had been fire he was trying to escape from, this time it was its opposite -water.
'Open up, you bastards!' Fairbank was yelling. 'Open this fucking door, you shitheads!' He pounded harder, rage giving him the energy.
Bryce was slipping away and Culver resolutely held on to him. He suddenly felt incredibly weak, as though his last remaining ounce of strength had decided enough is enough, there was no more.
He forced himself to stay erect by sheer willpower and it was only when that instinct had also decided to desert him that he felt the metal behind him giving way.
The door opened and he, Bryce and Fairbank were washed through with the torrent.
Hands reached for them as they tumbled over the floor. Culver came to rest between a large locker and a concrete wall and he lay there, resting his back in the corner, watching the figures struggling to close the metal door against the floodwater. It was a hardfought battle, the water cascading in and threatening to flood the whole complex.
More figures rushed forward to help and he saw Dealey standing nearby, watching anxiously, water already lapping around his ankles.
Culver's tired mind could not understand why the man standing next to Dealey was holding a gun on him. Why yet another man, the engineer called Ellison, was also pointing a gun, this one directed towards Culver himself.
Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?'
Kate passed a steaming hot mug of coffee to Culver which he accepted gratefully. He sipped, the liquid burning his lips, but tasting good, warming. He was still soaking wet and had not yet been allowed to change into drier clothes. The faces surrounding him in the Operations Room were neither hostile nor friendly; they were curious.
What happened to McEwen?' asked one of the engineers whom Culver knew as Strachan, ignoring the pilot's own question. Strachan was sitting in the seat behind the room's only desk, the one usually occupied by Alex Dealey. Culver noted that there were no longer any guns in evidence, but the shift in power was obvious without them.
We lost him,' Culver answered. His hair was damp and flat over his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded, an indication of his exhaustion.
'How?' Strachan's tone was cold.
'In the tunnel. He was swept away with the floodwater.' He tasted more coffee before adding, There's a chance he's still alive out there. Now would you mind telling me what this is all about?'
'It's about democracy,' Strachan replied, his expression serious.
'Lunacy, more like it.' Dealey was sitting on one side of the room, agitated and looking as if ready to erupt.
Farraday, leaning back against a wall map behind the desk, shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows and hands
