Mag-log in
The ocean didn't just rise; it swallowed the city whole.
Blistering heat from the earth's crust had melted the ice caps within weeks, unleashing churning, dark-grey tidal surges that tore through skyscrapers like wet paper. Three months into the climate collapse, the air smelled of salt, burning diesel, and rotting timber.
Betony wiped muddy saltwater from her eyes, her arms burning as she plunged her heavy plastic paddle into the violent current.
Below her, the fiberglass hull of a four-person bright orange survival capsule bobbed against the torrent. It was an enclosed, heavy-duty storm vessel equipped with a reinforced hatch and a small manual propulsion system, a miracle asset she had nearly drowned to scavenge from a flooded maritime warehouse two weeks ago.
"Betony! Over here! Help us!"
A frantic scream pierced the roar of the rushing water.
Betony turned her head. Clinging to the rusting metal frame of a half-submerged billboard were three people.
Her heart squeezed. It was her mother, Eleanor, her ex-boyfriend, James, and her former best friend, Saskia.
Six months ago, James had cheated on Betony with Saskia, and Eleanor had taken Saskia's side, calling Betony "cold and ungrateful" for not forgiving them. When the world collapsed, they had abandoned Betony in the lower city to save themselves.
Yet, as Betony looked at their shivering, pale faces above the churning water, her instincts took over. Not today, she thought, steeling her jaw. The world is ending. Survival matters more than old grudges.
"Hold on!" Betony shouted, fighting the current as she maneuvered the capsule alongside the billboard frame. "Grab the handles! Get inside!"
James scrambled in first, dragging Saskia by her waist. Eleanor reached for Betony’s outstretched arm, sobbing as Betony hauled her mother over the hatch ledge into the dry interior.
"Oh, my sweet girl," Eleanor wept, hugging her wet arms around herself on the narrow bench. "I knew you wouldn't leave us. I knew my daughter would save us!"
James collapsed onto the floorboards, gasping for air, avoiding Betony’s eyes out of shame. "Thanks, Betony. Real life-saver."
Saskia sat near the stern, her eyes darting greedily around the dry, insulated interior of the capsule, noting the small emergency water rations tucked in the side mesh. She didn't say a single word of thanks.
Betony slammed the hatch shut against the spraying rain and grabbed the steering tiller. "Sit tight. The current is pulling us toward the commercial district. Buildings are coming down, so we need to..."
CRACK.
A sickening, metallic screech echoed across the water. A hundred yards ahead, a twenty-story concrete parking garage groaned, its foundation snapping under the torrent. A massive wave of displaced water and heavy urban debris surged directly toward them.
The capsule rocked violently as water slapped the sides. The hull dipped low—too low.
"The capsule is dragged down!" James yelled, panic laced in his voice as he looked at the water line creeping up the small porthole window. "We’re taking on water through the seal! We’re too heavy!"
"The motor can't push four adults past that falling garage!" Saskia’s voice cut sharp and cold through the cramped chamber. She looked directly at Betony. "Someone needs to get out."
Betony’s hand froze on the tiller. She turned slowly, her eyes wide. "What did you just say?"
"I said we're overloaded," Saskia repeated, stepping closer, her tone chillingly calm. "This capsule is too small for four people to navigate through debris. Betony, you're resilient. You survived three months on your own out here. You should find another way."
Betony let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Are you insane? This is my capsule. I dragged it out of the floodwaters! I came back to pull you three off that sign!"
She looked frantically at her ex-boyfriend, then at her mother. "James? Mom? Tell me you aren't listening to this bitch!"
James looked down at his waterlogged boots, refusing to meet her gaze. "Betony... the math doesn't lie. Look at the water line. If we don't drop weight right now, the wave from that garage will flip us and kill us all."
"Mom?" Betony’s voice cracked, her throat tightening with sudden, suffocating panic. "Mom, please! I’m your daughter!"
Eleanor looked at Betony, her face hardening into a cold, detached mask. There was no warmth left in her eyes—only raw, selfish survival.
"You’ve always been strong, Betony," Eleanor said coldly, reaching out to squeeze Saskia’s hand instead of her own daughter's. "You don't need anyone. But Saskia is delicate, she’s been like a real daughter to me these past few weeks. She wouldn't last five minutes in that water. As my child, it's your duty to make this sacrifice for your family."
"My duty?!" A wave of pure, scorching fury exploded in Betony’s chest. "I saved your lives. Get the hell out of my boat!"
Betony lunged for the tiller, but James tackled her against the fiberglass wall.
"Let go of me. You monsters. Let me go!" Betony fought like a wild animal, her fingernails tearing across James' cheek, but Eleanor grabbed her arms from behind, pinning her wrists.
Saskia unlatched the top emergency hatch. Cold wind and ocean spray violently whipped into the cabin.
"Saskia, wait—" James grunted, holding Betony down.
Saskia didn't wait. She grabbed Betony by the hair, dragging her toward the open hatch. As Betony struggled, her right hand caught on the ledge. The deem sun caught the glint of the vintage silver ring on her middle finger, an antique band her late grandmother had given her.
Saskia’s eyes gleamed with instant greed. She grabbed Betony’s hand, digging her nails into her skin, and violently ripped the silver ring off her finger.
"Thanks for everything, Betony," Saskia whispered, slipping the ring onto her own hand.
"My ring—!"
Before Betony could finish, James and Eleanor shoved her shoulder with all their weight.
Betony plummeted backward out of the capsule.
SPLASH.
The freezing, silt-heavy ocean water swallowed her whole.
Betony broke the surface, gasping for air, her lungs burning as the icy current dragged her under. She couldn't swim—they all knew she had been terrified of deep water since childhood.
"Mom! James!" she screamed, her head dipping beneath the grey waves.
Through the blurred water, she saw the orange capsule’s hatch slam shut. The manual prop kicked in, and the vessel sped away, navigating smoothly over the cresting wave, leaving her behind in the open water.
A shadow fell over her.
Betony looked up through her rain-slicked vision. The twenty-story concrete garage collapsed, towering slabs of iron and rebar plunging straight down toward the water directly above her head.
As the crushing darkness rushed down to meet her, the terror in Betony’s heart burned away, replaced by a toxic, absolute hatred.
I gave them everything... and they threw me away like trash.
If I get another chance... Her teeth ground together, her soul screaming against the cold darkness pulling her down. I won't be a savior. I will be their worst nightmare. I will be the villain.
The concrete hit. The world shattered into black.
The tin bowl hit the pine floorboards with a heavy, hollow bang.Warm broth splashed across the worn leather rug, dripping onto Betony’s grey wool socks. The rest of the thin soup pooled around Toby’s bare heels, floating small bits of dried thyme and lard against the dark timber.Betony didn't move for three seconds. She stood by the low wooden table, her hands still extended in mid-air where she had set the bowl down.Toby sat on the sofa, his arms folded tight across his narrow chest, his chin tucked down into his collar. He didn't look at the mess on the floor. He stared directly at the hearth, his little jaw set in a hard, stubborn line."Toby," Betony said. She forced her voice to stay low, even, and smooth, swallowing the cold lump of disgust rising in her throat. She knelt down, her knee resting on the edge of the damp rug as she reached for the overturned tin. "You need to be careful. Food is hard to come by up here."T
The air in the seventeenth-floor hallway was stale, smelling of cold soot and damp wool.Betony was carrying an empty zinc water bucket back toward the service stairwell when the door to Apartment 17B unlatched. Susan stepped out into the corridor. Her eyes were bloodshot, her dark hair tangled in matted clumps against her forehead, her wool cardigan stretched loose at the elbows.She stopped dead when she saw Betony.Betony didn't alter her pace. She held the heavy zinc handle with two fingers, her face smooth, unbothered, as if she were stepping past a sack of spoiled flour left in the passage."You think you won, don't you?" Susan’s voice was dry, cracking on the consonants. She stepped sideways, blocking the narrow concrete walkway between the handrail and the wall. "You think because he locked the bolt on me, you get to keep him."Betony halted three paces away. She set the zinc bucket down on the cold floorboards. The met
The frost on the iron barrels didn't melt when the heavy machine guns fired; it turned to fine grey dust that blew back into the men's faces.Four hundred feet below the timber line, in the shadow of a sheer granite cliff known as the Devil’s Notch, twenty-two men in white canvas smocks hauled wooden crates of sixty-millimeter mortar shells up a forty-degree icefall. Their boots were wrapped in wire for traction. Every breath they dragged into their lungs came out as a thick, white plume that froze instantly into ice crystals against the collars of their heavy parkas.One young corporal slipped on the blue ice. His knees hit the frozen shale with a sound like dry firewood snapping, the wooden crate slipping from his numb fingers and sliding forty yards down the slope into the dark ravine below.A heavy leather boot slammed down on the boy’s collarbone before he could push himself off the ice.Major Marcus Selman stood over him. At fifty-
The comms handset in Apartment 17B dropped from Susan’s fingers, swinging on its coiled black cord against the plaster wall.Zaid took the stairs five at a time. He didn't wait for the cage elevator on thirty. He didn't put on his fleece vest or grab his sidearm. He ran down the unheated concrete stairwell in his wool shirt and trousers, his heavy boots making a rhythm like thunder against the steps.When he slammed through the timber door of 17B, the air in the narrow living room smelled sweet and heavy, thick with the scent of boiled lard and warm corn meal.Toby was sitting on the carpet by the low table. His small hands were pulled up to his throat, his face dark red, his lips already taking on a faint, terrifying shade of blue. Each breath came out as a thin, wet whistle, his chest heaving against his cotton shirt as his lungs starved for air."Zaid!" Susan wept, dropping to her knees beside the boy, her hands shaking violently as she hovered over him.
The icy wind tore through the door frame the moment the heavy latch dropped outside.Eleanor didn't stay on the floor. She couldn't afford to. Pain was a luxury for people who had somewhere warm to lie down, and the floorboards of the road supervisor’s shack were already pulling the remaining heat out of her ribs.She gritted her teeth, a dark, guttural growl dragging out of her chest as she rolled onto her knees. The broken ankle pulsed—a thick, sickening throb that sent white sparks across her vision. She reached out, her numb fingers clawing at the pine leg of the overturned table, dragging her torso up inch by inch until she was standing on her right heel.Beside the dead iron stove sat a broken spruce broom handle. She grabbed it, jammed it under her left armpit, and lunged toward the heavy timber door.She threw her body weight against the wood. The iron latch yielded with a loud, rusty crack, and the door swung wide into the storm."Saskia!" Eleanor shrieked into the blizzard.
The secondary service duct behind the twentieth-floor radio alcove was narrow, cramped, and lined with rotting fiberglass insulation.Betony stood in the dark, her cheek pressed near the rusted iron grate. Below her, in the narrow concrete landing where the upper stairwell met the armory corridor, two sets of boots rested flat on the floorboards."The angle doesn't make sense, Captain," Miller’s voice rattled up through the vent, low and dry. "I checked the entry hole before we hauled him to the chute. It wasn't a stray round from the doorway. Someone pressed the muzzle straight against his ribs and pulled the trigger."A long silence stretched through the vent. Betony heard the slow, heavy scrape of Zaid’s leather vest against the wall."Susan was hyperventilating," Zaid said, his tone flat, heavy with hesitation. "She saw a man bleeding out on her doorstep. She's twisting what she saw.""She said your girl walked down the stairs, picked up the gun, and executed him," Miller pressed,







