Page 96 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
"Seal the stairwell doors," Navuh commanded. "Contain the flooding."
Nabin's heart stopped. Seal the doors? With dozens of people still below?
"My lord, the people on Level Seven?—"
"Will be evacuated if possible. Seal the doors, Nabin. That's an order."
The connection cut off.
Hassan stared at him in horror. "He can't mean that. There are over sixty people down there. Families. Children."
Including Nabin's wife. The thought of Priya, probably just waking to the sound of alarms, not knowing that death was rushing up from below...
Lord Navuh had given a direct order. Seal the doors, contain the damage. It was the logical choice—sacrifice the few to save the many. The water wouldn't rise forever. Eventually, it would reach equilibrium with whatever source fed it. If they could contain it to the bottom levels...
But those weren't just numbers on a casualty report waiting to be written. They were people he knew, had worked alongside for over a decade. Mariam, pregnant with her first child. Sonia, whose son had just recovered from pneumonia. Ahmed, who always had a joke ready no matter how long the shift.
His wife.
"We evacuate first," Nabin decided. "Then we seal the doors."
If Navuh sentenced him to death for refusing a direct order, at least he would die with a clear conscience.
Another section of wall gave way, this one larger than all the others. The water didn't even look like water anymore—it was a solid white wall of force that demolished everything in its path. A massive electrical panel, bolted to the floor with inch-thick steel, got ripped free and tumbled in the current like a toy.
The water was chest-deep now and rising. Each second they delayed was a second stolen from the people above.
"Go!" Nabin shouted at Hassan. "Get to Level Seven. Start the evacuation. I'll follow."
Hassan didn't argue. He fought his way to the stairs, using the railing to pull himself against the current. Nabin watched him disappear up the stairwell, then turned back to the failing room.
Nabin fought his way to the emergency supply locker, the water now high enough that he had to swim in places. Inside, waterproofed and waiting, were the evacuation air horns. He grabbed a few and headed for the stairs.
He climbed while using the air horns to signal the emergency pattern.
As he emerged onto Level Seven to chaos, the evacuation had begun, but it was disorganized. People stumbled from their quarters in various states of dress, confused and frightened. Some headed for the elevators—which would be death traps. Others milled about, unsure where to go.
"Stairs only!" Nabin bellowed. "Leave everything! Move to the stairs now!"
His voice cut through the panic, giving people something to focus on. They began to stream toward the stairwells. But there were so many of them, and the stairs were narrow...
He spotted Hassan trying to organize them in groups, sending them up in waves to prevent crushing. Smart man. But where was?—
"Nabin!"
Priya appeared from their quarters, still in her nightgown but carrying their emergency bags—the ones they'd packed years ago, just in case. His practical, wonderful wife.
"Go," he told her.
She gripped his hand. "Come with me."
"I can't. Not yet." He squeezed back, then pushed her toward the stairs. "Go. I'll follow."
She went, but not without a look that promised consequences if he didn't keep that promise.
The floor shuddered beneath his feet. A moment later, water began seeping through the stairwell doors. Not flooding—not yet—but enough to tell him their time was measured in minutes.
"Everyone out!" he roared. "Two minutes! Anyone not on the stairs in two minutes gets left behind!"
