Chapter 170
- Becky -
I woke to the quiet and stillness of the Maxwell home. I was the first one up ahead of everyone else in the home.
Outside the walls, Shell City was never truly silent—but this was different. Not an absence of sound but a shift in rhythm. A subtle displacement beneath it all.
The night before still clung to my bones.
The reset.
The strain.
The way time itself resisted when I forced it to bend.
I remember collapsing—not gracefully, either, not willingly—just the darkness swallowing me because my body had nothing left to give. They said I overexerted stabilizing whatever distortion had flickered through. They don't know what I actually did.
They don't remember.
The fractures of the sky.
Our world is falling apart.
All of them are dying.
And the pain and tears as Kaysi begged to forget everything
Now, beneath the floors, the circulating pressure systems hummed—steady, regulated, and engineered. The distant mechanical pulse that usually blended into the city's background... It all felt slightly offbeat. Like a metronome missing a fraction of a second.
Maybe it was just me.
Maybe I hadn't settled back in the timeline correctly.
I don't know if the worry I carry is instinct or paranoia. Kaysi has always teased me about seeing threats in shadows that aren't there. She says my caution keeps us alive—but sometimes it borders on expecting disaster.
Only time will tell.
And whether Evan opens up to her.
That thought lingers heavier than I'd like to admit.
As a matter of fact... where are they?
I saw something on the kitchen table.
The early-morning light filters through the city's submerged glow, refracted blues and slivers washing across the counter. A small folded note sat near the flower vase on the table.
I picked it up.
They wrote that they were going to speak with the governor about a concern Kaysi had.
My stomach tightened.
Why didn't they wake us?
I understand not wanting to cause alarm. I understand wanting to verify something before dragging the entire group into politics.
But leaving in the middle of the night?
That feels like something bigger than a small concern.
I folded the note carefully.
The uneasiness I felt doesn't begin to cover it.
A low vibration traveled through the floors again.
Subtle but still there.
Jakeh was awake by now and straightened up in the hallway as he walked out.
A sustained tone from a siren rolled through District One—the dread of a controlled but official warning call.
It was not frantic or chaotic, but it still was unmistakable.
Mary looked up immediately, her arms tightening gently around the baby. "That's an evacuation protocol."
Josh turns, blinking. "Protocol for what?
Jakeh nods. "Lower pressure irregularity detection. Standard procedures tell us to clear to the next leave while the engineers investigate."
Mary exhales slowly. "We've done this before. Once, when I was little, I had maintenance due to a minor leak, and they fixed it within a few hours."
Routine, like everything else around here, is a practice of peace in the chaos, so it seems to me.
Another tremor passes through the structure—just a bit longer this time.
The baby began to fuss.
I stand.
"Okay, then, no time to waste. I say with a calm voice, "We move then. Pack the essentials only."
We moved with efficiency, no panic or shouting, just purpose.
Josh gently lifts the baby from Mary's arms. "I've got him."
James grabs formula containers and seals them into a satchel. "Just in case."
Micah returns from the hallway with postpartum supplies. "Mary, I've got what you'll need."
Jakeh secures a small lockbox beneath the counter.
"District two," he says. "Standard upward route."
I glance once toward the door.
They'll meet us there. Kaysi and Evan will probably be guided by the groups of people surging in.
I choose to believe that.
Outside, Shell City unfolds with layered architecture—stone arches reinforced with sleek structural ribs and lantern-lit panels woven into curved metallic walkways. A place that feels ancient and advanced all at once.
Neighbors are already moving.
Guiding elderly residents.
Loading handcarts.
Small electric scooters hum softly between pathways.
No chaos.
Just controlled urgency.
Then I see it.
The canal lining the lower edge of District One.
The waterline should sit comfortably beneath the reinforced lip.
It doesn't.
It presses against it.
And as we watch, a thin sheet slides, spilling over.
Not violently.
Not crashing. Yet still rising before our eyes.
Jakeh goes still.
"That's not an easy maintenance repair. That is much more." He says quietly.
The water isn't surging.
It's advancing.
Slow enough not to spark a panic. But fast enough to matter.
And beneath it all—that offbeat hum in the city's systems—continues.
"Move," I said in a calm but deliberate voice.
We move with the crowd up the incline toward District Two. Jakeh stays near Elise now, protective without hovering. She's still adjusting to all of this—to having a brother, to having a family, and now to the growing pandemonium.
Mary walks steadily despite exhaustion and holds her small toddler son tight against her hip. Josh carries their little newborn girl. Who has gone quiet in that strange way children do when they sense adults are worried?
The tremors beneath our feet shake us once more by the time we reach District Two; the lower walkways of District One is half-submerged. Market tablets start to float. Lantern reflections shimmer against rising water. City workers are already unlocking livestock pens near the outer ring as they try to move animals uphill.
But much too slow for my comfort.
District two is crowded but orderly as the city's people watched. Officials guide people to assigned zones, check names, and take headcounts.
Controlled.
Measured and contained.
I don't like how contained this feels.
Jakeh exhaled. Then we reached the designated family sector. "We're clear for now.
"For now," I repeat quietly.
Mary lowers carefully onto a bench, adjusting the little boy who now curls up next to his mother, shivering a bit in fear and cold. Josh, still holding the baby girl, leans closer to the boy and kindles a flame in his hand, warming both the mother and the son.
Mary looks at the cyan blue flame radiating from Josh's hand. "You children all have special gifts, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," I admitted. "We used them to help get your husband back home."
"I believe you were divinely appointed to help us that day. Thank you for all you have done."
Jakeh nodded his head at the words of Mary, his wife.
"Once before our people heard of legends of people known as Waymakers, divinely appointed and gifted people who help humanity, but we only thought they were legends—myths." Elise sighed, not in defeat but because she realized more of what the city had done to keep people controlled.
Elise scans the district with sharp, searching eyes. Even now, this isn't just a water pressure—or routine maintenance—problem."
"No," Jake answers. "Unfortunately, it isn't."
I glanced once toward the lower tier; still no sign of—
A familiar ripple of air brushes across my senses, the soul tie of someone we knew.
Subtle, but I turn.
At the edge of the district, two archways, partly shielded by a curved support column, two figures stand apart from the evacuation crowd, watching.
Baby and Duke.
They are not wet, nor shaken by this. A firm and grounded presence in this moment.
They start to step forward once our entire group is visible.
Jakeh straightens slightly.
Josh shifts the baby in his arms.
I step toward them, first hugging Babyg.
"You were very delayed," I said jokingly.
Duke inclines his head once. "Intentionally."
Baby folds her arms loosely. "The city officials insisted on speaking with us."
"For almost 3 days?" I asked.
Jakeh's expression hardens. "About?"
"You," Duke answered plainly. "All of you."
A small silence forms between us, heavy but not surprising.
"They know what you all are," Baby continues. "Or at least, what they believe you are."
"Waymakers," Elise murmured.
"Yes," Duke's head tilts. "Though here, the word has more legend than understanding attached to it. How did you know?"
"We were just talking about it when Josh lent his flame to warm the children and Mary," I spoke up.
"They have not had a waymaker here in a long time," Josh says, assuming. "They built the silent police instead in our absence."
Baby nods. "Correct. Shell City prides itself on independence. Self-sufficiency and control."
" We know that all too well," I weak-heartedly chuckle.
"And now," Baby says, looking at the surging water of the district below. "Control is slipping."
"They wanted assurances," Duke continues. "That if the situation escalates, you would remain."
Jakeh lets out a quiet breath. "Remain?"
"Help build the city. Strengthen the system of their city. Possibly...stay."
There it is.
The pull.
Not by force, not yet, but by suggestion.
Opportunity dressed as necessity.
Mary looks up from the bench. "We're not bargaining with anyone here!"
Baby's expression softens slightly at that. "Nor did we."
"They tried to separate us by letting you go into the city," Duke adds calmly. "To discuss 'potential futures' and 'possibilities'—individually."
Josh snorts. "That's real subtle—not suspicious at all..." He jokes sarcastically.
"We declined, of course," Baby says.
A small, genuine relief moves through me.
"They delayed you two long enough," I note.
"Yes," Duke answers. "Long enough that we couldn't find you at first. That was until the system in District One was hacked, and they could not find you. We have released them to locate you."
Jakeh steps forward. "How bad is it?"
Duek's gaze shifts briefly towards the partly submerged district below. "Manageable for now. If we act quickly and evacuate everyone."
Baby meets our eyes. "Livestock pens are flooding right now. The outer residential ring will follow if the seals continue to be hacked and opened.
Elise inhales sharply. "There are animal shelters down there as well, and for the elderly."
I added, "And potentially other families who refused to evacuate that are now trapped."
"Right," says Josh, gently handing the baby girl to Jakeh for the moment. "We've got to get everyone to safety.
"You can't leave them," Mary says with a small plea and sadness for our parting of ways. "Thank you again. I will see you again, and I pray for your safe return."
Baby steps beside me quietly.
"This is only the beginning," she says under her breath.
I don't disagree.
Behind us, Mary, Jakeh, and Elisa wave goodbye.
Josh rolls his neck, mentally preparing.
Duke turns toward the stairwell leading back down.
Micah and James take the rear.
And the ocean breathes beneath the city's engineered false calm.