The water reached their waists, and Reza began eying the rafters as if contemplating a way to climb up among the wooden beams. As Eduard raised his arms experimentally to see how far above him the ceiling was—veryfar, to be honest—the water’s movement froze, then reversed direction. With a great sucking sound, the sea drew itself back into the confines of its shore.
Eduard held his breath as he watched the water retreat from the shack. It was like watching a tub empty as the mud and muck sloshed out the door, leaving behind a broken trail of sticks and slime and leaves. As it pulled back, it left in its wake small, damp carcasses of dead rodents, shards of broken glass, clumps of long grass and hair tangled like seaweed. And the smell…Eduard buried his face in the crook of his elbow, breathing in thinly to keep from choking on the rotting, fishy stench. “God,” he gagged.