The water knocks the breath from Okwembu’s lungs
For one terrible moment it shuts her body down completely. She is entirely submerged, hanging upside down in her seat. Her arms and legs won’t move.
The need for air overpowers everything, short-circuiting every rational part of her mind. Okwembu throws her head forward, desperate to break the surface of the water, aware that she might not be able to. Her brain sends out a desperate signal to breathe, and she opens her mouth wide.
Air. Beautiful, wonderful, air. She can’t get enough of it, and she can’t keep it inside her. Her lungs can’t hold onto it, shocked into uselessness by the water. But she’s above the surface, and awake, and alive. Electrical connections short out in bursts of sparks, lighting up the pod’s interior.
A moment later, the water rises over her face. In a panic, Okwembu thrusts herself upwards, but she’s strapped in tight and can’t keep her head above the surface. The air vanishes, ripped away.
The other passengers are just like her, upside down, the water over their chests. They’re thrashing in place, fingers fumbling at the straps, desperate to get loose. Okwembu keeps her eyes open, forcing her body to cooperate. Through the dark water, she can see a huge hole in the back of the pod, edged with jagged, torn metal. That’s her way out.
She is going to survive this. It’s insanity to think otherwise. She is going to find the source of that radio transmission, make contact with whoever is sending it and continue her life. That’s all that matters.
Okwembu works quickly, unstrapping herself, pushing past the panic, working the buckles on the safety straps. They come loose, but she’s tangled up in them, her left arm pinned in an awkward position. She wrenches to the side, popping it free.
She doesn’t know how to swim. None of them do. Nobody in this pod has ever encountered this much water in one place. She has to work it out as she goes. The water makes fine motions impossible, the cold robbing her of control. But she can still move her arms and legs, and she propels herself towards the hole. She forces her eyes to stay open, even though it feels like they’re going to freeze in their sockets.
A hand claws at Okwembu. The face behind it is upside down, eyes wide with terror, like something out of a nightmare. The fingers are in her hair. For a horrifying second, she’s caught, stuck fast. Then she twists away, pushing through the jagged hole.
Her next stroke gets her clear. It takes every burning atom of energy she has to keep going, but she does it, breaking the surface.
And all she can see is fire.
It takes her a confused second to work out what’s happening. The surface of the water is burning, the flames licking against a darkening sky. The fuel. It’s draining from the pod, ignited somehow, burning hard. Smoke stings her eyes. Heat bakes the water off her face, but below her neck she’s almost completely numb with cold. Her clothes are heavy with water, holding her in place.
Movement, off to her right. Coughing and spluttering. A shadow, pulling itself out of the water, heaving its way up onto—
The shore. It’s visible through the smoke, close enough to get to. She can make it.
Okwembu starts swimming, winding a path through the burning fuel. But her movements are slower now. Underwater she could swim, but here it’s almost impossible. Every stroke feels huge, but seems as if it propels her no more than a single inch. Her vision shrinks down to a small, burning circle.
It can’t end like this. She won’t let it. But the circle threatens to wink out, and she tastes the water in her mouth, cold and sour.
Then she’s being lifted up. Hands under her arms, pulling her bodily out the water. She slams into the ground on the shoreline, mud spattering her face, tongue touching dirt. Her limbs twitch spasmodically. She rolls over, without really meaning to. Her clothing clings to her like a second skin, and her legs are still submerged in the water.
Mikhail Yeremin stands over her, breathing hard, his shoulders trembling.