Page 43 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure (The Children Of The Gods #98)

NABIN

I n the control room, Nabin studied the monitors.

It was five-thirty in the morning, and he hadn't slept since the tremor.

His eyes burned from staring at the screens, but the numbers refused to lie still.

The humidity sensors showed a steady climb—ninety-three percent and rising.

Too high for the dehumidifiers to handle, even running at maximum capacity.

"Nabin." Hassan's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie. "You need to come see this. Equipment room, eastern wall, section four."

Nabin grabbed his flashlight and headed down the emergency stairs. As he entered the equipment room, the hum seemed to intensify with each step, vibrating through the concrete.

He found Hassan kneeling beside a strain gauge attached to the wall, his face pale in the fluorescent lighting.

The engineer pointed to the digital display. "Look at these readings. The pressure's spiking. It jumped twenty-three percent in the last five minutes alone."

Nabin crouched beside him, studying the numbers. The gauge showed pressure levels that shouldn't be possible this far above the water table. Unless...

"The water table's risen," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

"Or something's redirected an underground stream." Hassan pulled out his tablet, fingers flying across the screen. "The seismic activity could have opened new channels. If there's an aquifer under pressure?—"

The wall answered before he could finish. A crack appeared in the concrete, no wider than a hair at first, but Nabin could hear it growing. The sound was obscene—like bones breaking in slow motion.

"Back away," Nabin ordered, pulling Hassan to his feet.

They'd made it three steps when the crack exploded.

The concrete didn't just fail—it disintegrated. A section the size of a door blew inward with the force of a cannon blast. Behind it came the water.

Not a trickle. Not a stream. A geyser.

The pressure behind it was monstrous, turning the water into a battering ram that slammed into the opposite wall with enough force to crack those panels too. The roar was deafening, drowning out Hassan's scream and the sudden shriek of alarms as the spray hit the electrical panels.

Sparks flew in cascading showers as panel after panel shorted out. The acrid smell of burning insulation mixed with the mineral tang of the incoming water. Emergency klaxons began their piercing wail, but Nabin could barely hear them over the thunder of the inrushing flood.

He grabbed his walkie-talkie, backing toward the stairs as water spread across the floor with terrifying speed. "All stations, all stations! This is Nabin. Code Red. I repeat, Code Red. Catastrophic breach in Level Eight. Initiate immediate evacuation. Everyone needs to get out."

Static answered him. The water had already claimed the main communications panel.

Hassan stood frozen, watching the water rise. In seconds, it had gone from ankle-deep to knee-deep, the current strong enough to stagger him.

"The pumps!" Hassan shouted, pointing to the control station. "We have to engage the emergency pumps!"

They waded through the rising flood, fighting against the current.

The pump controls were on the western wall, still dry but not for long.

Nabin's fingers flew over the switches, engaging pump after pump.

The massive machines roared to life, their intake valves opening to gulp down the incoming water.

For a moment, he dared to hope. The pumps were rated for thousands of gallons per minute. Maybe they could handle?—

Another section of wall gave way. Then another.

The eastern wall was failing in sequence, each breach larger than the last. The water wasn't coming in streams now but in solid columns, hammering into equipment and structures with devastating force.

A maintenance cart got caught in the flow and slammed into a support column hard enough to leave a dent.

"It's not going to work!" Hassan had to scream to be heard. "The pumps can't keep up!"

Nabin didn't need an engineering degree to realize that. The water was rising faster than the pumps could eliminate it. Already it was waist-deep, the current strong enough that he had to brace himself against the control panel to stay upright.

His walkie-talkie crackled. Through the static, he heard a familiar voice—one of Navuh's security detail.

"Control room, report. What's your status?"

Nabin pressed the talk button. "This is Nabin. Level Eight is compromised. Catastrophic water breach. We need immediate evacuation of all levels. The pumps can't handle the intake rate."

"Stand by."

Stand by? They were drowning, and the man said stand by?

The lights chose that moment to fail. The main panels had finally succumbed to the water, plunging them into absolute darkness for a heartbeat before the emergency lighting kicked in. Red lights bathed everything in an infernal glow, making the rising water look like blood.

"We need to get out of here," Hassan said, already wading toward the stairs.

There were people on Level Seven, including his own wife. He grabbed the emergency phone, a hardwired line that should still work.

Dead.

The walkie-talkie crackled again. A different voice now, one that made Nabin's blood run cold despite the crisis.

"This is Lord Navuh. Report."

Even over the roar of water and failing machinery, the lord's voice carried absolute authority. Nabin pressed the talk button, choosing his words carefully.

"My lord, Level Eight has suffered multiple catastrophic breaches. Water is entering faster than our pumps can evacuate. At the current intake rate, Level Seven will be flooded within minutes. We need to get everyone out."

"Seal the stairwell doors," Navuh commanded. "Contain the flooding."

Nabin's heart stopped. Seal the doors? With dozens of people still below?

"My lord, the people on Level Seven?—"

"Will be evacuated if possible. Seal the doors, Nabin. That's an order."

The connection cut off.

Hassan stared at him in horror. "He can't mean that. There are over sixty people down there. Families. Children."

Including Nabin's wife. The thought of Priya, probably just waking to the sound of alarms, not knowing that death was rushing up from below...

Lord Navuh had given a direct order. Seal the doors, contain the damage. It was the logical choice—sacrifice the few to save the many. The water wouldn't rise forever. Eventually, it would reach equilibrium with whatever source fed it. If they could contain it to the bottom levels...

But those weren't just numbers on a casualty report waiting to be written. They were people he knew, had worked alongside for over a decade. Mariam, pregnant with her first child. Sonia, whose son had just recovered from pneumonia. Ahmed, who always had a joke ready no matter how long the shift.

His wife.

"We evacuate first," Nabin decided. "Then we seal the doors."

If Navuh sentenced him to death for refusing a direct order, at least he would die with a clear conscience.

Another section of wall gave way, this one larger than all the others.

The water didn't even look like water anymore—it was a solid white wall of force that demolished everything in its path.

A massive electrical panel, bolted to the floor with inch-thick steel, got ripped free and tumbled in the current like a toy.

The water was chest-deep now and rising. Each second they delayed was a second stolen from the people above.

"Go!" Nabin shouted at Hassan. "Get to Level Seven. Start the evacuation. I'll follow."

Hassan didn't argue. He fought his way to the stairs, using the railing to pull himself against the current. Nabin watched him disappear up the stairwell, then turned back to the failing room.

Nabin fought his way to the emergency supply locker, the water now high enough that he had to swim in places. Inside, waterproofed and waiting, were the evacuation air horns. He grabbed a few and headed for the stairs.

He climbed while using the air horns to signal the emergency pattern.

As he emerged onto Level Seven to chaos, the evacuation had begun, but it was disorganized. People stumbled from their quarters in various states of dress, confused and frightened. Some headed for the elevators—which would be death traps. Others milled about, unsure where to go.

"Stairs only!" Nabin bellowed. "Leave everything! Move to the stairs now!"

His voice cut through the panic, giving people something to focus on. They began to stream toward the stairwells. But there were so many of them, and the stairs were narrow...

He spotted Hassan trying to organize them in groups, sending them up in waves to prevent crushing. Smart man. But where was?—

"Nabin!"

Priya appeared from their quarters, still in her nightgown but carrying their emergency bags—the ones they'd packed years ago, just in case. His practical, wonderful wife.

"Go," he told her.

She gripped his hand. "Come with me."

"I can't. Not yet." He squeezed back, then pushed her toward the stairs. "Go. I'll follow."

She went, but not without a look that promised consequences if he didn't keep that promise.

The floor shuddered beneath his feet. A moment later, water began seeping through the stairwell doors. Not flooding—not yet—but enough to tell him their time was measured in minutes.

"Everyone out!" he roared. "Two minutes! Anyone not on the stairs in two minutes gets left behind!"

It was harsh, but it worked. The stragglers stopped dawdling, and the flow of people toward the exit became more urgent. Nabin did a rapid circuit of the level, banging on doors, checking common areas. In the communal kitchen, he found the chef struggling with a bag of possessions.

"Leave it," Nabin ordered.

"My photographs?—"

"Will do you no good if you're dead." He grabbed the man's arm and steered him toward the stairs.

The seepage was becoming a flow. Water poured under the stairwell doors, spreading across the floor in an expanding pool. The pumps on this level engaged automatically, but Nabin knew they were just buying them minutes.

Hassan appeared next to him. "That's everyone I could find. We need to go."

But Nabin's duty wasn't done. Lord Navuh had ordered the doors sealed. If he didn't do it now, the water would race up the stairwells, potentially flooding the entire structure.

"Help me," he said, moving to the emergency control panel.

The stairwell doors were designed to seal in case of fire, preventing smoke from spreading between levels. They'd work just as well for water. Nabin input his security code, then turned the manual lock. A red cover lifted, revealing a row of switches.

"This will trap anyone still down there," Hassan said quietly.

"I know." Nabin's hand hovered over the switches. Somewhere below, Level Eight was probably completely flooded.

They were out of time.

He threw the switches.

One by one, the heavy steel doors slammed shut. The sound was final, like the closing of a tomb. The flow of water cut off instantly, though they could hear it building behind the barriers, testing the seals.

"They're rated for fire suppression," Hassan said. "Should handle water pressure to thirty feet." He wiped sweat from his face. "Beyond that..."

They both knew what beyond that meant. If the water rose high enough, the pressure would blow the doors off their hinges like champagne corks.

His walkie-talkie crackled. "Nabin. Report."

Lord Navuh again. Nabin keyed the microphone. "Level Seven evacuated, my lord. Stairwell doors sealed. The barriers are holding for now."

"For now." The lord's tone was contemplative. "How long?"

Nabin looked at Hassan, who shrugged. Too many variables. How much water was coming in? What was its source? Would it reach equilibrium before the pressure exceeded the door ratings?

"Unknown, my lord."

"I see. Keep monitoring. Report any changes immediately."

The connection ended. No word of thanks for saving the staff on Level Seven. No acknowledgment of the crisis still unfolding.

But that was Lord Navuh. Nabin had served him long enough to expect nothing else.

"Come on," he told Hassan. "We need to get the other levels to evacuate."

Because the doors would fail.