The Dragon of the Deep (Part 2)

As we swam, the water from the opening was pulling and tugging, doing everything it could to get us out. Well… I can’t really say that we were swimming more like me swimming as Torin attempted at what looked like some kind of doggy paddle. It was as if at the moment he just forgot that he couldn’t swim. The force of the water was strong and Torin couldn’t get much further than where he was, it was like he was “swimming” in the same place. I turned around and grabbed his arm with both of my hands and started kicking my legs to swim backwards. After he started kicking too we finally began getting somewhere but I had no clue how long Torin or I could hold our breath so I just had to kick harder, faster. If the water was going into the hallway then there should end up being air at the top of the tank and if there was still light coming from the water after the power outage then there must be some kind of opening at the top. At least that’s what I hoped. But yeah, I'm kind of like a miniature Sherlock Holmes.

It felt like we’d been battling the water for a while when I started needing that air and seeing the end of this pool. We swam past many fish who were too small to fight back against the forceful water and ended up on the other side of the hole we made. Torin was the one who gave the final push before my head was above the water. I yanked him up and he spat out a mouth full of water, coughing out even more.

“Did you breathe that in?” I asked.

“Right before I got out.” He coughed again.

“Why would you just jump in without knowing how to swim?” I asked.

“I heard that the best way to learn was under severe pressure,” He smiled, “I ended up finding out those are not words to live by.”

“Idiot,” I said, “You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t.”

I sighed and looked up at the sky above us. There was a platform where people were staring down looking for fish from above. They were probably not expecting to see people in the water in place of the fishes and wondering where most of the water ended up. To that I had a short n’ sweet, simple answer: "I don’t freaking know." And which one of you decided to block the exit with A DAMN CONCRETE WALL because you did an excellent job in making sure that there were NO HOLES and NO ESCAPE.

We ended up being helped up by some employees or something. They were wearing the blue, collared, t-shirts and name tags that most of the workers had so I assumed they probably worked there too.

There were a ton of questions too.

“How did you guys get in there?”

“Did you break the glass?”

“How many others were down there?”

“Are they okay?”

“Do you realize how much danger you put them in?”

It wasn’t even our fault but we answered their questions the best we could.

“The glass broke.”

“No.”

“I don’t know how many people were down there.”

“Probably not.”

“It’s not our fault.”

I could imagine how suspicious we sounded to them. That’s probably why the police were there to take Torin and I away in their loud “Wee Woo Cars'' as Torin calls them. We were in the back seats with some kind of window separating the driver from the back. The policeman who was driving us had a thin mustache, and brown eyes. He wore his police hat and uniform but he didn’t look too intimidating.

“He is definitely not invited to my birthday party,” Torin said, “I’m not a fan of baldies anyways.”

“How do you know he’s bald?” I asked.

“Kye, he’s wearing a hat,” he pointed out, “It’s obviously to try and hide the fact that he’s got a shiny dome underneath it.”

We continued arguing over whether he was bald or not until I decided to ask him.

“Sir,” I called the policeman, but there was no answer.

“SIR!” I began knocking on the glass, “Are you bald?”

The officer sighed and lifted off his hat to reveal a brown buzz cut and put his hat back on.

“A buzzcut…” Torin said, “Meh, I was close.”

“Close? He has hair.”

“Not a lot though. He’s pretty close to being bald anyways.”

The rest of the car ride was silent. Well, not completely. Torin and I were playing a game we made up called “Name That Type of Car”. So we basically called out the kind of car we saw.

“Bus.” Torin said.

“Pickup truck.” I pointed.

“Train.”

“SUV.”

“Mini van.”

“Regular car.”

“Helicopter.”

“Helicopter?”

“Yeah.”

“Police car.”

"Huh, there's a lot."

The officer parked next to four other police cars making him the fifth in that row. There was an American flag tied to a tall metal pole in front of the big, red brick building. The policeman confirmed that we had arrived at the Leafside Policestation. He exited the car and opened the door for us to get out.

“Thanks, Baldi-” Torin began before I punched him in the side, “Thanks.” he mumbled.

The man in blue nodded and led us into the building.

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