I resurface and scan the water for my dog, my friends. Bits of fiery shrapnel float around me, and finally I look back—just in time to watch the antenna that once stood proudly above the bridge cabin sink beneath the waves. The entire coal barge is gone.

Beyond it, the tower is in jagged ruins, rising less than a third of its original height, its top completely sheared off. I watch as another explosion blows a huge chunk out of its side. The remnant of the tower lists sideways and begins to sink.

“Paige!”

It’s Tanq’s voice, and I begin stroking toward it even before I pinpoint her location with my eyes. She rumbles toward me, taking it slow, avoiding flotsam when she can. Emmaline is curled up in her lap, bedraggled and frightened, but she seems okay. Wyatt clutches the Jet Ski near Tanq’s feet, riding sidecar style. Trey looms over Tanq’s back, pushing her forward as if he can make her go faster with the force of his body.

Tanq pulls up beside me.

“Hold on to the side,” she says. “I’m going to get us out of here, but if the engine sucks up any of this debris, it’ll choke, so be ready.”

I nod, and Tanq shoots forward, nearly yanking my arm from my socket. I’m freezing cold now—my wetsuit must have torn somewhere—and I suspect I have small burns all over my body. But it feels like I can breathe again for the first time in days.

The tower is down. And we are alive.

The hull of Tanq’s Jet Ski skids onto a pebbly shore, and I collapse, heedless of sharp edges poking through my wetsuit. I just lie here, breathing, grateful to feel solid ground again.

Emmaline hops off of Tanq’s lap and shakes herself violently, spraying us all with water. Then she trots up the beach and squats.

The whole time we were trying to save humanity, Emmaline was holding it. I can’t help myself; I start to laugh, and even though I’m not sure why, I can’t seem to stop and I’m laughing and laughing until my sides pinch.

“Up you go,” says Trey, and he lifts me by the armpit, helps me gain my feet.

On the other side of the Jet Ski, Wyatt stumbles up the beach. His knee is pretty banged up, but I’m glad to see him able to stand.

“Did we do it?” Tanq asks, swinging a leg over the seat to dismount. “We did it, right?”

“We did it,” Trey confirms.

He puts his arm around me, and together we drip water onto the ground as we gaze back at our handiwork. I gasp.