The water didn't rush in like a river; it seeped. It came up through the rusted seam where the floorboards met the transmission tunnel, a cold, black ooze that smelled of heavy fuel oil and dead marsh grass. It soaked into the wool of Elias’s trousers before he could even lift his feet off the pedals, a freezing weight that made his ankles ache instantly.
The engine didn't die with a dramatic bang. It just gave a long, wet sigh, the six pistons sliding to a halt inside the iron block as the coolant finally filled the oil pan.
The yellow headlamps flickered twice, their intensity dropping from a sharp glare to a dull, orange glow that barely reached the rusted edge of the concrete dock.
Then, the silence of the harbor came back down on them, heavier than before.
Elias sat with his hand
