The entire store reminded Amy of the aftermath of a hurricane. Golf pencils, bottled water, store maps unspooled and softened to delicate membranes, flower-pots, mirrors, rats. Everything was floating free. As they approached the massive Self-Service Warehouse, Amy found she didn’t need to walk anymore—she could simply push off the floor and let the current carry her along. She wrapped an arm around Basil’s chest, holding him tight, and towed him behind her. It was easier this way; floating along with the debris instead of hacking their way through it.

The current sped up as it rounded the corner and carried them into the cavernous warehouse. The Maglite was useless here, where towering shelves stretched nearly fifty feet to the ceiling. All around Amy heard creaks and cracks as the flooding stressed the building. Far above her in the darkness, the massive metal shelves loaded with flat packs groaned, and splashes echoed as boxes of Brookas and Müskks fell from higher levels.

Something cracked across Amy’s shins and she became entangled in a piece of submerged furniture; she lost her grip on Basil and spun off into a support pillar, nearly dropping her flashlight. She scanned it over the swift-moving water and saw Basil’s head and shoulders bobbing away from her.

“Grab that rack!” she yelled.

With his good arm, Basil lunged for one of the massive shelves at the end of the aisle. He clung to it and when he looked back at Amy, his eyes went wide. “Swim!” he yelled. “Don’t look back!”

Amy did what anyone would do in that situation. She looked back.

A storm surge of rats was bearing down on her. It was a cresting wave of them, pushed by the current, aimed directly at her face. There were thousands of them surging through the water in a massive swell. She imagined them scrabbling at her lips, worming their way inside her mouth, down her shirt, shrieking and tearing at her. She threw herself forward in a blind panic, swimming fast.

Basil kicked alongside her and together they swam like hell. They made it over the checkout counters, where the ceiling dropped to a standard ten feet. Amy’s head brushed past a “See You Soon” banner that hung from the rafters. Squealing echoed in the darkness behind them. Her bruised body ached. Her arms were leaden. Her skin burned from the cold, and her lips were chapped from the oily water.