The water kept rising and the ceiling seemed to descend on them even as they talked.

“The only way out is the way I came in,” Cheung said, looking down into the murky water. It was so thick and brown he couldn’t see the door through it.

“I thought about swimming with her down there, but I don’t think it’s possible,” Hok-Yee said. “There’s got to be another way.”

“Through the roof?” said Cheung. “Even if I could smash a hole in it, outside there’s only more water.”

“Maybe together we could guide her out?” Hok-Yee said. She was so pale. She didn’t complain, but it was clear that even if the ceiling weren’t rapidly closing in on them, she wouldn’t be able to keep the table and her mother afloat much longer. They had no choice.

“Can you hold your breath for two minutes, Ma?” said Cheung.

The old lady nodded, but the nod was slight.

“Can you, Ma?” Cheung repeated. What if she drowned? His stomach churned. He didn’t want to be the one to lead her to a watery death.

His mother opened her eyes fully. “Yes, my son. Only because I know you will safely guide me through.” The old fighting spirit was still present in her open eyes, which reassured Cheung.

“Okay, then,” he said. “Okay.”

“Follow me,” he said to his sister. To his mother, he said, “Arms on my shoulders, all right, Mama?” He turned his back to the table and kicked hard to stay afloat.

The old lady rolled over and climbed onto his back.

“Big breath,” Cheung said to both of them, repeating what his mother used to say to him when he was little and she was teaching him to swim at Blue Pool, the swimming hole at the edge of the village.