510 The Flood, Ch. 23



Chapter Twenty-three

We live on a hill, for fucks sake. Not a small hill, either. Which is good, because it's time to start running.

The water is at the bottom of our street. But it doesn't look like water. It looks like cars and houses and debris, moving up hill, toward me, kinda quickly.

"Come on," I shout to the dogs over the rising noise, "Let's go."

Fuck leashes. The city is now officially off leash.

Princess is ahead of me going up the stairs across the street. This little convenience leftover from the time of street cars is a lifesaver, buying us fifty feet of elevation in moments. As Dozer and I reach the top, I turn around. The bottom of the stairs are now covered. 

The sidewalk where I had been lying a minute ago is gone, there's junk up to our front door. Bang, it collapses inward, then disappears under the unstoppable flow of garbage.

My shoulder tweeks again as I grip the handrail, stunned and unsteady on my feet. Dozer barks. It's time to keep going.

---

This is a steep hill, and I'm going as fast as I can, but the water is faster, and I'm seriously out of breath.

Why isn't it stopping?

We must be at two hundred meters now. The wave has got to run out of oomph at some point. 

Princess is far ahead, pausing to look back every once in a while, like I'm an idiot for going so slow. Dozer is even a few steps ahead, looking back and whining nervously.









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