First published on Penmancy on 12 July 2023
It’s a strange thing to focus on when you’re drowning, the colour of someone’s nails. Hers are a sickly yellow, pale and rippling in the light that filters through the surface. I can see that the polish on the ring finger is chipped and scratched, but that there are small bubbles forming on the surface of the thumbnail.
Drowning is not a fun experience. I should know, considering that I nearly died that way twice already. But that’s why I’m here now, staring at the chipped nail polish on an unresponsive hand. The warning light flashes in the corner of my eye, and I force myself back to the present, pushing the memories of pruned skin and burning lungs to the back of my mind.
“Response time was three seconds better than last time,” Aiko says cheerfully when I manage to surface, gasping and choking, but with the training dummy in proper float position. “You’re still so dead when the apocalypse arrives, Mina.”
I scowl at him before pulling myself out of the pool. “I doubt the apocalypse is even coming, you idiot.” It’s a lie. Everyone in this building knows it. We all just want to pretend we can’t see it.
“Aw, Mina, are you still scared?” Seunghee throws her arm around my shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that I am still dripping wet. I can feel her hand in my hair, pulling through the wet tangles. “I could go on dives with you if you want.”
It’s a hollow offer. Seunghee knows that her prosthetic leg will hinder us in any rescue attempt in the water, which is why she stays on land, coordinating the evacuations.
“I’ll be fine, Seunghee,” I tell her, shooting her a grateful smile anyways. Her forehead creases and then smoothes out, a blank expression covering her face.
“Sure, Mina.” She peels off from the group, limping towards an empty corridor. When I look after her, she looks… scared. Scared, and angry.
I take a moment to peel off the wetsuit and get changed, the warm fabric of the jumpsuit settling on my shoulders like a comfortable arm. My face is still pale when I look in the mirror, my hair dark and messy around my neck. If I look hard enough, I can spot the telltale blankness that fills all our eyes – one that comes with being the people who live in these circumstances while others die.
The training room is empty when I leave, the window blinds raised. I pause for a moment, staring outside. The glass reflects the painting behind me, making it seem like the sky is clear. I had almost forgotten the colour of a clear sky. All we see these days out of the windows of the Tower is a grey, overcast sky, sheets of rain pouring down incessantly. I can feel the floor shake every time a gust of wind buffets the Tower.
Those of us in here are only alive because we got lucky. Every day, survivors try to reach us, braving the storm outside.
Every day, I see a face sink, upturned as the waves wash over them, too tired to hold on. I remember my own hand, fingers stretched out as if that would let me hold on to the diffused rays of sunlight that danced cruelly in the water, even as my lungs burned and my eyes threatened to close.
Aiko saved my life. I want to do the same.
A hand reaches out to touch mine, tracing the little scars left on my knuckles. I continue staring out of the window, staring at the sheets of rain washing the glass, leaving trails that send the light from inside sparkling.
“What’s going on inside that head of yours, Mina?” Aiko asks quietly. There is no sign of the man who was joking and laughing on the deck. This side of Aiko is one that only I have ever seen – silent, calm, scared.
“Will this change?” I ask him. I don’t have to clarify. By the tightening of his hand on mine, I know he understands.
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Mina, I- I can’t tell.”
“There were three people at the base today. We only got one onto the platform.”
The wind is our greatest enemy. It howls and rages, tossing the rain into our eyes, turning the little water drops into deadly missiles. It’s hard to focus even with the goggles, because the steady drip-drip-drip of water that we are used to is instead a sharp tap-tap-tap on all surfaces.
“Where is this going to end?”
Aiko doesn’t answer. His arm remains around me as he gently pulls me away from the sight that has haunted us for months, from the sight that leaves me frozen and terrified.
If there is an end to this, we do not know what it is.
If there is a life beyond this, we do not know when it will come.
Sreepriya Ramesh 
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