Gwen had already figured out what Liam was up to. His little dip in the water earlier was just a final safety check. Satisfied, she hopped onto the raft, landing light as a feather. Sheila and Harris followed close behind.


Sheila had finally ditched that heavy sledgehammer, trading it for the baseball bat Gwen had given her. It suited her better.


Drake untied the mooring line and splashed into the water. He gripped the edge of the raft with both hands, bobbing in the current. "Alright, Liam. Which way?"


Harris looked confused. "D... Drake? Why don't you just climb on?"


Drake shot him a look that said shut up, but didn't say a word.


"Drake gets seasick," Gwen deadpanned. "Put him on a boat and he'll puke all over your shoes."


"Oh." Harris clamped his mouth shut, looking awkward.


"Head over there," Liam said, pointing. "That's Sheila's old building. It's close, so we'll check that one first."


"You got it, boss." Drake grinned. He kicked off the submerged wall behind him, using his legs like an outboard motor to shove the raft forward.


Liam grabbed an oar and dipped it into the dark water to steer.


"Let me handle that, Boss," Harris offered, stepping forward eagerly.


Liam didn't even look up. He just shook his head. "No. Keep your eyes peeled on the water. I don't want us getting ambushed."


"Don't worry," Harris said, relaxing a little. "Most of the monsters sleep during the day. As long as we don't poke them with a stick, they usually leave us alone."


With Liam steering and Drake providing the horsepower, the raft cut through the flooded city streets quickly. They were heading for a high-rise about three hundred meters away—Sheila's old home.


But just fifty meters from that building stood another thirty-story tower. That was Liam's old turf.


Suddenly, Liam shifted his grip on the oar. He steered the raft away from Sheila's building, curving around it and aiming straight for the tower where he used to live.


"Hey!" Drake sputtered from the water. "Change of plans?"


"Yeah," Liam said, forcing a smile. "Let's check my place first. I want to show you guys my old bachelor pad."


He didn't say the real reason. A moment ago, he'd caught a glimpse of Sheila. she was staring at her old building, looking pale and haunted. Liam remembered that her father had died there. Bringing her back to the scene of the crime so soon? Bad move. He should have thought of that sooner.


So, he changed course.


Gwen narrowed her eyes at him. She clearly didn't buy the "bachelor pad" excuse, but she kept quiet.


Drake, however, laughed. "Why would we want to see where a dude lives? Unless it's a supermodel's bedroom, I'm not interested. Now, if we were visiting Gwen's room..."


"You're such a creep, old man," Gwen said coolly.


"Hey!" Drake protested. "Since when am I an old man?"


Gwen just smirked and looked away.


They crossed the fifty-meter gap in no time. Liam slowed them down, guiding the raft gently against a window ledge on the building's submerged corridor.


"Finally," Drake groaned, blowing water out of his nose. "I'm dead."


Liam set down the oar and grabbed his machete. He vaulted through the open window, landing squarely in the corridor.


The hallway was eerily familiar. He'd left this place alone, on the run. Now he was back with a squad. It felt... weird.


Gwen tossed him the rope. He hauled the raft tight against the wall and secured it.


Drake dragged himself out of the water and flopped onto the back of the raft. Pushing a boat load of people three hundred meters had clearly taken it out of him.


"So, Liam," Drake panted. "What's the plan? We really checking out your bedroom?"


"You already said a guy's room is boring," Liam smiled. "So let's skip the tour."


He turned to Gwen. "Gwen, take Sheila and stay here. Or better yet, head up to the roof where it's open. Drake, Harris, and I are going down to check things out. If it's a nest, we'll try to bait the monsters up to the kill zone."


Gwen's sharp, cat-like eyes narrowed. She stepped into Liam's personal space, looking ready to scratch. "Seriously, Liam? Enough with the macho act. Why are you sidelining me and Sheila again? You think just because we're girls we can't handle it?"


"Sheila isn't safe up here alone," Liam countered calmly. "And she can't exactly go underwater with us. I need you to watch her back."


Gwen opened her mouth to argue, but Drake cut in with a loud laugh.


"Tell you what," Drake said, raising a hand. "I'll swap with Gwen. I just swam a marathon and my legs are jelly. I'll hang back and guard Sheila. You guys can handle the diving."


Since Drake was playing peacemaker, Liam decided to let it slide. "Fine. We'll do it Drake's way."


Gwen's scowl vanished instantly. "That's more like it."


Drake climbed over the raft and vaulted through the window, landing in the flooded corridor with Sheila. Meanwhile, Liam, Gwen, and Harris geared up to dive.


"Liam, do we hold the fort here or head for the roof?" Drake asked.


"Hold here for now," Liam said. "But stay sharp. If we get overrun, we bail straight to the roof."


"You got it." Drake gave his steel pipe a menacing swing and grinned. "This bad boy is starving. I'm ready to make some snake soup."


As Liam and the others slipped into the dark water, Sheila spoke up. "Be careful." Her wide eyes were filled with genuine worry.


"Don't worry," Liam smiled, trying to reassure her. "You guys watch your backs, too."


He took a deep breath and submerged.


Gwen took to the water like she'd been born with gills. She moved with terrifying agility, diving straight down to the gap between the twenty-ninth and twenty-eighth floors. Liam followed at a slower pace, scanning the twenty-ninth floor as he descended. Harris brought up the rear without a word, his shortspear gripped tight in his right hand, hovering about six feet behind Liam.


On the twenty-ninth floor, Liam spotted them.


Snakes. Ugly ones.


They drifted in the water, dark yellow and speckled with white spots. It was hard to tell how long they were since they were coiled up, but the thickest parts of their bodies were easily as wide as a human arm.


There weren't too many of them—maybe seven or eight floating silently in one of the submerged rooms, motionless in the gloom.