Deep Fire Rising - v4 by Jack Du Brull

two-inch diameter spear that hit the seismograph machine. For a moment the water exploded around the armored case in a roiling froth, but its power was too great to be deterred by such a puny obstacle. The heavy case began to slide across the floor, slowly at first, then accelerating. Red had a fifty-foot head start on the tumbling crate and it nearly bowled him over as the water jet propelled it like a projectile down the tunnel.
    The noise began to swell as the hole widened and more water gushed through. It was more powerful than any fire hose. Mercer knew if it somehow touched him the least that would happen was it would knock him flat. More likely, he realized as he ran, it would tear away whatever limb it encountered.
    They raced on, pursued by the relentless flood. The water level rose and waves pulsed down the drive so that two hundred feet from the working face they kicked up spray with every pace. After five hundred feet the water was up to their knees. Red looked at Mercer, reading in his eyes the determination to fight on despite the lengthening odds.
    Far behind them billions of tons of water tore at the rock, seeking release from its subterranean reservoir. The hole widened, allowing the flood to come through with such force that the stream remained airborne for fifty feet before the water column hit the tunnel floor. It swept past the utility tractor like a raging river, boiling around the four-ton vehicle until it too was dragged along in the torrent.
    With Ken slung over his shoulder, Mercer could barely keep up with Red, and yet the loyal Texan didn’t leave him behind. They ran in step, fighting side by side as water climbed up to their waists. The speed of the water pulled them along and threatened to tear their legs out from under them. Both knew that to fall was to die.
    After what seemed like an hour but was only eight minutes, Mercer saw the lights of the substation. He could even hear the water as it cascaded into the deep sump, a thunderous sound that shook the earth. He began to hope. If they could reach the skip, maybe they could be pulled out before whatever rock still damming the underground lake failed completely.
    It wouldn’t happen.
    There was just too much water, too much pressure. Rather than collapse in sections, the entire span of the tunnel, from floor to ceiling, failed at the same time. The wall of water hurtling down the tunnel filled every square inch of space, a solid barrier moving at forty miles an hour.
    Because water cannot be compressed, the collapse formed a pressure bulge that shot through the flood. Mercer and Red were caught totally unaware.
    Like a tsunami, the wave rushed over them in a near-solid sheet that left both men tumbling in its backwash. Mercer lost his grip on Ken Porter when he smashed against the wall, the precious last gulp of air he’d taken exploding from his lungs at the blow.
    He managed to right himself in the tumult and came up gasping. The black water settled to its earlier level and he staggered to his feet, knowing the massive surge had been a preview. Red surfaced a short distance away. His breathing was labored and he couldn’t focus his eyes. This time Mercer couldn’t deny his instincts. Searching for Ken meant he’d lose Harding for sure.
    He grabbed the smaller man by the back of his overalls to keep his head clear and charged down the tunnel like a rampaging animal. The flood had taken one man and he wouldn’t let it take another. He’d lost his helmet and its precious lamp in the swell so he focused on the distant constellation of lights ringing the substation. A fierce wind howled past his shoulders, driven to hurricane force by the wall of water bearing down on him.
    Had the floor of the skip elevator not been an open mesh that allowed the water to vanish into the sump, the tunnel would have already flooded to the ceiling. However, this reprieve was double-edged. If Mercer and Red were caught in the cage when the main wave hit, their