Dead Waters - Anton Strout [23]
I hit the water hard, the shock of its coldness driving the air from my lungs. My ass hit the bottom of the pool, my tailbone slamming into it. I struggled to get my legs underneath me. The fire in my chest from lack of oxygen burned. I pushed off the bottom of the pool, the weight of my clothes making my struggle sluggish. When I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, I gasped in, praying I was near the surface. My initial intake, however, was water, which set me in a deeper panic, but thankfully I broke the surface and my next breath was sweet, delicious air. I gagged, fighting to keep my head above water, and gasped for my next breath. My elbow came down hard against the edge of the pool as I flailed for something to grab onto, adding a new pain to the one already burning in my lungs. I slid down, but my left hand caught the edge of the pool and I dug my fingertips in. With my other arm, I hoisted myself above the water to shoulder level and turned to scan the pool for the woman as I cleared my lungs in a fit of hacking coughs.
Between the pouring rain and the waves from my impact, I couldn’t make out anyone in the pool with me above or below the surface. I searched the murky darkness as I waited for the water to calm, but I didn’t see anything until a female form pulled itself out of the shadowy water across the pool.
“Crazy bitch,” I muttered to myself, my heart still pounding from the fall. “I’ll see your crazy and raise you.”
In my soaked clothes, I felt like I weighed a million pounds, but there was no time to waste. My suspect was already turning, and once she noticed me there, the chase would be on again. Keeping my eyes on her, I pressed the palms of both hands onto the pool’s edge and hoisted myself up and out of the water.
Or tried to, at any rate.
Before I could get all the way out, a wave of water rose up in front of the woman and rolled across the top of the pool, washing over my legs. Pressure wrapped around my calves, becoming solid as if it were hands pulling at my lower half. It tugged at me and I fell onto the expensive-looking tile work along the pool’s edge. My ribs screamed in pain from the impact, but I didn’t have time to concern myself with it—I was being dragged back into the pool against my will.
I fought whatever strange riptide had me as something about the feel of the water changed. The pressure of it was increasing, making it more and more difficult to breathe. I made for the shallow end, but it was like trying to swim through molasses. As spots of light started to fill my vision from lack of oxygen, I caught sight of the woman once again. One of her arms was extended out from her, taut and muscular. She closed her fist slowly and the pressure increased. I would have loved to marvel with Other Division curiosity at how she was controlling the water, but right now all I could think about was how nice it would be to not die this way.
Movement from above the woman caught my eye. Another figure was plummeting down from above. Between the dark, the rain, and the figure’s growing speed, I couldn’t tell if it was Connor or Jane, but whichever one of them it was, they were not going to make it into the pool, a fact that caused my heart to leap out of my chest. Before I could even think to look away, the figure landed square on top of the woman. The sound of them impacting against each other was not as meaty as I had expected. The collision was more like stone grinding against stone—one of the gargoyles from up above. It shattered, crumbling on the spot into a million broken pieces in a pile of rubble.
The woman, however, didn’t crumble like the gargoyle did. She exploded, not into a geyser of bloody, fleshy bits, but into water. The spray flew in every direction like an ocean wave hitting an outcropping of rocks, leaving no trace of the woman whatsoever. The pressure in the water faded and in a flash I was across the pool to where I could finally stand and wade my way out of it. I ran over to the spot where the broken gargoyle lay.
As I shifted the rubble around with