Shh, part 9

Three-hundred twenty-three mind-numbing steps later, he had crossed the second street, and followed the labyrinthine path through the body of Liv's apartment complex. There must have been stoppages here because the water flowed slower and he didn't have to fight the currents to move. Behind the stairs going up lay the blocky clover-shaped entryway where doors 163 A, B, and C stood. He dropped the bunched up folds of his poncho and rapped on door C. “Liv?”

No response. Digging out his phone, he checked the texts between them. The last one she'd sent said that she was sick and he'd replied that he was coming over. His message had been read but nothing more.

He hadn't considered the possibility that she might not be home any more. She was sick but maybe a neighbor had helped her evacuate to a safety center. Or maybe she was unconscious, helpless as the water rose. “Liv?” He called again, banging frantically. "Liv! Liv!"

A rough voice from the second floor yelled down to him. “Who's down there? I'm armed!”