Chapter 192: Chapter 192 - The River
The shoreline narrowed where they entered, broken concrete sloping unevenly into the water, rusted metal jutting out at angles, half buried in mud and debris.
The river moved past it without slowing, dark and restless even before the last light faded.
Aljun stopped there and nodded toward the edge. "This is where we go in."
Iyisha swallowed as she stepped closer and looked down.
The raft lay near the edge, small and worn, its surface patched over and over with hardened lines of sealant that made the rubber uneven under the light.
Lance stared at it, disbelief clear on his face. "That’s it?"
"That’s it," Aljun answered without hesitation.
Marybeth huffed but didn’t comment further.
Malcolm moved before anyone else could speak, dropping the bag and crouching beside the raft. He ran his hand along the seams, pressing into the repaired sections, checking for weakness with quick, practiced movements.
Iyisha watched him, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides. "If that gives—"
"It won’t," Malcolm cut in, not looking up.
She let out a small breath. Malcolm wouldn’t let them walk into something they couldn’t handle. Her eyes shifted briefly to Lance.
Marybeth moved along the edge, scanning behind them, then the waterline, then the buildings again, her attention shifting in controlled sweeps. "Anyone watching?"
"Not from here," Aljun said, then tilted his head toward Manhattan. "From there."
The sky dimmed further, the last of the light thinning across the river until it disappeared into the surface. Malcolm pulled rope from the bag and started tying everything down, looping it tight, doubling it, pulling each knot until the material strained.
Weapons, packs, anything that mattered stayed secured.
Aljun stepped into the shallow edge, his boots sinking slightly before he adjusted his footing. "We move quiet. No splashing. No talking once we’re in."
Lance swallowed. "And if they see us?"
Aljun didn’t look at him. "Then you won’t need to worry about the water. Or Brooklyn."
Iyisha wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, then let them fall as she stepped closer to the edge. The cold reached her before she even touched it.
Malcolm stood. "Let’s go."
He pushed the raft forward. It slid into the water with a low drag, rocking once as it settled before the current caught it and pulled it slightly off line.
Aljun stepped in first, balancing himself with ease. "Now."
Malcolm followed, steadying the raft before reaching back. Iyisha stepped in next, the surface shifting under her feet, unstable, forcing her hand to grab the side rope.
Lance climbed in after her, less controlled, the raft dipping harder under his weight, water brushing close to the edge.
Marybeth stepped in last, quick and low, stabilizing the back.
The current took them.
Not fast at first. Just enough for the shoreline behind them to loosen and begin to slide instead of stay.
The raft turned slightly, pulled off the line Iyisha expected, and her fingers tightened around the rope.
No one spoke.
Water moved against the rubber in soft, uneven sounds as the city behind them faded into shadow. Ahead, the river stretched wider, darker, swallowing detail.
All she could hear was the river and her own heartbeat, loud and steady in her chest. Even as the raft spun slightly with the current, Iyisha couldn’t take her eyes off Manhattan. They were getting closer. The shadows around it made everything feel sharper, more dangerous.
No one spoke, but she knew they were all thinking the same thing.
What if someone saw them?
What if a sniper was already watching?
They were deeper in now. The shore behind them had thinned into shapes. The one ahead was still a dark line, waiting.
The current pulled them sideways just like Aljun said. Iyisha felt it beneath them, a steady drag that shifted and twisted, like the water moved in layers.
Something bumped underneath.
Soft.
Then gone.
Iyisha stilled. Her grip tightened.
"Debris," Aljun muttered. "Stay still."
Lance exhaled beside her, shaky. Marybeth didn’t move. Malcolm’s hand rested on the edge, steady, like he was waiting for the river to make the next move.
Iyisha glanced toward Manhattan. They were already farther from it than before. Then she looked toward Brooklyn.
Dark.
Empty.
Her skin prickled.
The raft dipped. Then lifted again.
Iyisha forced her breathing steady. In. Out. Slow. Her arms began to ache from holding too tight. She loosened her grip just enough to keep control.
A sound cracked across the water.
Sharp. Distant.
Then again.
Everyone froze.
Another crack echoed. Not close. Not far enough.
Iyisha didn’t turn. She kept her eyes forward, her body still.
The raft shifted again.
Stronger.
A long scrape dragged underneath them.
The raft jerked sideways.
Lance grabbed the edge. "What—"
"Quiet," Malcolm said.
A low hiss followed.
Then sharper.
Iyisha felt it before she saw it. The side under her sagged lower. Water touched her fingers. Cold. Immediate.
"Aljun," Marybeth said, voice tight.
"I feel it," he answered.
The hiss grew louder. Air escaping.
The raft leaned.
Not enough to flip.
Enough.
Water began to climb over the edge.
Lance’s breathing picked up. "It’s—"
"Don’t say it," Marybeth snapped.
Malcolm shifted once. "Stay still."
The raft dragged slower. The current pulled harder against it.
Another scrape. Closer.
The raft lurched again.
Iyisha slipped. Her grip was gone for half a second before she caught the rope again.
Fuck. The river almost had her.
Water surged over the side.
"That’s a tear," Aljun said flatly.
The raft dipped further.
Malcolm looked at each of them once. Fast.
"Off."
"I—" Lance started, but the words died in his throat.
There was no choice.
The raft was sinking. Staying on it would be worse.
They moved.
Iyisha slid into the water.
Cold hit her like a wall. The river swallowed the sound around her.
Her breath snapped, chest tightening as the shock stole it. She forced air back in, hard, steady, refusing to panic.
Her hands found the raft again.
Grip tight.
Lance hit the water harder, clinging too high, dragging the raft down with him.
"Lower," Marybeth snapped. "Don’t drag it. Are you trying to kill us?" She shoved his arm down. "Let it float you."
"I’m sorry," Lance muttered.
Aljun moved to the front. "Help the raft. Swim toward Brooklyn."
Malcolm stayed in the middle, one hand on the raft, the other cutting through the water in steady strokes.
Iyisha kicked. Matched the rhythm. Forced control back into her body.
The current pulled harder now, dragging the raft sideways, dragging them with it.
The far shore grew clearer.
Not close.
But closer.
"Not yet," Aljun said.
The raft bumped again. Harder.
It tilted, water sloshing across it.
Lance choked as he went under. "Shit—"
"You okay?" Malcolm asked.
"Yeah," he said, breathless.
The rope strained.
The raft sagged.
Iyisha’s arms burned. Her legs too. Every kick heavier.
"Swim harder," Aljun said.
They adjusted. Kicked harder. Angled forward.
The current resisted.
The raft dragged behind them, heavy, unstable.
The shoreline came into view. Broken. Dark. Close.
Something moved there.
Iyisha saw it.
Then forced her focus back to the water.
"Almost," Aljun said.
The water changed.
Shallower. Rougher.
Debris scraped against her legs.
Her foot hit something solid. Slipped. Then found it again.
"Up," Malcolm said.
They pushed. Pulled. Dragged the raft with them.
Hands hit concrete. Rough. Sharp.
Iyisha hauled herself up, her body shaking as water poured off her.
Lance collapsed beside her, coughing. Marybeth climbed up next. Then Aljun.
Malcolm came last, still holding the rope, still dragging the raft until it cleared the edge.
It sagged on the ground, half deflated, barely holding shape.
No one spoke.
Iyisha lay there for a second, chest rising hard, breath uneven.
Behind them, the river kept moving.
In front of them, something shifted in the dark.
