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The roar inside the cave isn't just the storm outside anymore. It’s the sound of the world collapsing. One moment, the Thornberrys are huddled on damp rock, watching lightning fracture the sky through the cave mouth; the next, a thunderous crack echoes above them, louder than any lightning strike. Jagged chunks of limestone plummet from the roof, crashing onto the sandy floor like malignant hail. Water surges instantly from hidden fissures, a frigid, muddy torrent swirling around their ankles, then their knees. Within seconds, it's waist-deep, pulling them towards the collapsing rear cavern.
Nigel’s frantic shouts are swallowed by the chaos. Marianne clutches Donnie tighter, his feral shrieks sharp against the din. Debbie grabs Eliza’s arm, her knuckles white. Panic flashes in Eliza’s wide eyes. This is it. The secret she’s guarded since Africa bubbles up, desperate and unstoppable.
"Daddy! Mum! Debbie!" she gasps, choking on spray. "I can, Darwin isn't just smart, I *told* him—!" Her words are cut off as a slab plunges nearby, sending a violent wave crashing over her head.
She disappears beneath the churning, debris-filled water. Debbie screams, plunging her arms into the murk, grabbing fistfuls of sodden khaki shirt. She hauls Eliza up, spluttering and incoherent, eyes rolling back. The cave is filling faster than they can scramble, the water rising to their chests, pushing them inexorably towards the submerged exit Nigel frantically points towards. Survival instinct overrides paralysis. They swim, a terrified flotilla – Nigel pushing debris, Marianne holding Donnie above the waterline, Debbie guiding Eliza’s weak form, Darwin paddling furiously beside them – fighting the current through the jagged opening into the raging storm outside.
They stagger onto the violently churning beach, coughing seawater, battered and shivering. Rain lashes their faces like needles. Through the gloom, a miracle: the Comvee. It stands defiantly upright on a higher dune, its familiar orange bulk a beacon. Still secured in lockdown mode, its windows dark, its doors firmly sealed against the apocalypse.
Nigel spots the problem immediately. He gestures wildly at the muffler pipe protruding uselessly from the rear chassis. "Need a lightning rod! Connect it!"
He sprints back towards the partially submerged debris pile near the cave, hunting for anything metal long enough to jam onto the pipe. Marianne crouches, anchoring herself in the sand, one arm wrapped tightly around a whimpering Donnie, the other gripping a trembling Eliza. Debbie stands guard over her mother and siblings, scanning the wind-whipped chaos. Donnie, panicked by Nigel’s sudden departure and the howling banshee wind, wrenches himself free. Like a leaf caught in a hurricane, he’s instantly lifted off his feet, tumbling sideways. Marianne lunges, fingers snapping shut around his ankle just as he’s about to be snatched away.
She hauls him back with a grunt of effort, pulling him fiercely onto her hip, pinning his struggling form against her soaked sweater. "Stay still, Donnie!" she commands, her voice cracking with adrenaline.
Nigel returns triumphantly, brandishing a twisted length of rusty ship railing. He jams one end onto the muffler pipe, driving the other deep into the sodden sand. "Should channel it!" he yells above the roar. He turns to rejoin them, taking only two steps. A monstrous gust barrels up the shore. The makeshift lightning rod shudders, leans… and topples sideways into the mud with a sickening thud. Nigel stares, despair etching deep lines on his face.
Before anyone can react, Eliza moves. Pain and cold forgotten, fueled by pure desperation, she scrambles towards the Comvee’s rear wheel. Her fingers find purchase on the slick tire tread.
"Eliza, no!" Marianne shrieks. Debbie lunges forward – "Liza, STOP!" – but her fingers grasp only air.
Eliza’s already pulling herself onto the muddy wheel hub, then onto the fuel tank mount, climbing the chassis like a desperate spider. Marianne is frozen, paralyzed by terror; she can't run without abandoning Donnie, and Debbie would likely follow her sister onto the vehicle. Lightning forks overhead, illuminating Eliza’s small, determined figure clinging to the roof rack. Rain streams down her face as she grabs the fallen railing. Below, Debbie watches, heart hammering against her ribs, useless dread freezing her limbs.
Eliza braces her feet against the roof’s edge, straining with every ounce of strength. She heaves the railing upright, fighting the wind threatening to tear it from her hands. She slams its base against the muffler pipe, wedging it fiercely into the muddied sand below.
CRACK-ZZZZT!
A blinding bolt strikes the railing dead-on. Violet-white energy explodes down its length, grounding violently through the muffler and into the Comvee’s chassis with a deafening sizzle. Eliza is thrown backwards like a ragdoll, her small body convulsing as a halo of sparks erupts around her braces. She plummets, landing with a sickening thud across the thick, moss-covered trunk of a fallen palm tree ten feet away.
Silence, save for the wind and rain. Then, a mechanical clunk. Then another. The Comvee’s headlights flicker weakly. The central locking disengages. The doors are open.
"ELIZA!" Debbie’s paralysis shatters. She sprints, slipping in the mud, collapsing beside her sister. Eliza groans, her eyes unfocused, her clothes smoldering slightly where the braces sparked. Her arms tremble violently. "Hang on, Liza," Debbie whispers, tears mixing with rain.
Nigel grips Darwin’s arm, practically dragging the whimpering chimp towards the Comvee. Marianne clutches Donnie and stumbles forward. Nigel throws open the Comvee’s sliding door.
"INSIDE! NOW!"
Marianne bundles Donnie in. Nigel lifts Eliza’s limp form from Debbie’s arms and places her gently on the long rear seat. Debbie scrambles in beside her. Nigel slams the door shut just as Marianne points out the windscreen with a choked gasp. "Nigel—!"
A mountain of black water, taller than the Comvee, roars towards them across the flattened beach. Nigel slams his fist onto the dashboard controls, engaging the Comvee's Ocean Mode™. Hydraulics groan. Wheels retract. Seals hiss. The Comvee transforms into a clumsy boat just as the tsunami hits.
The world tilts violently. Furniture slides. Darwin screeches. Donnie tumbles into Marianne’s lap. The Comvee spins, lifted like driftwood, then surges forward *with* the wave, riding its monstrous crest away from the disintegrating shore. Inside the bucking cabin, the frantic energy drains away, replaced by stunned silence and the drumming of rain on the hull. They are adrift, but alive. Eliza moans softly on the seat, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Debbie acts instantly. She pulls Eliza towards her, cradling her sister’s shuddering form against her chest. Reaching blindly behind her seat, she snags the thick, scratchy woolen emergency blanket stashed there. With trembling hands, she wraps Eliza tightly, cocooning her from shoulders to knees, tucking the folds securely. The blue veins standing out on Eliza’s pale forehead terrify her.
"Shh, Liza," Debbie murmurs, stroking damp hair from her face, her voice thick. "Just breathe."
Donnie crawls across the seat. Uncharacteristically quiet, his wild eyes wide and solemn, he stares at his motionless sister. Slowly, hesitantly, his small hand reaches out. He places it on Eliza’s shoulder, beneath the blanket’s edge, and squeezes gently. It’s not rough; it’s tentative, questioning, anchoring. Debbie glances at him, her own eyes swimming, and gives a tiny nod.
She shifts, pulling Eliza closer still. Donnie shuffles nearer, pressing his side against Debbie’s arm. Marianne sinks to her knees beside them, brushing Eliza’s cheek. Nigel watches from the driver’s perch, Darwin peering anxiously over Marianne's shoulder. The Comvee rocks violently on the turbulent sea, but inside, there’s only the shared vigil, the collective focus on Eliza’s labored breaths – shallow, strained, but there. The storm rages outside, but the Thornberrys are finally sheltered, huddled close, waiting.