Alvion tore down the mountainside, hoping his legs would support him at his frantic pace. He screamed as he ran, warning the town to prepare themselves:

“She’s opened up the floodgates again! Christ almighty!”

Shopkeeps, bartenders, homeowners and schoolchildren sprung into action, pumping and twisting the levers to the hydraulic jacks below their homes and businesses. While the rich looked on with disdain, safe in their high-rise houses, the poor and middle-class clambered for safety, not knowing how soon the flood would come rushing down the mountain.

.-( = )-.

Jorin peered at the ruckus below. In their panic to prepare for the torrent, the townspeople had nearly ruined two of the four beams supporting his home. And then he felt a drop of water splash against his hand…

“Great. Now it’s raining. What more can go wrong?”

Down below, a woman stopped and shouted “FLOODING!”

As if on cue, a deep rumble came from the mountain. Jorin looked up, and realized that his high-rise might not be high enough…