The System Can’t See Me

The seam under Nia's upper hand gave way while she was still holding Kai.

It started with a small pull at his ribs. His shirt had been wet long enough that the fabric no longer lay flat. Every breath moved it against her palm. When his hip settled another fraction toward the floor, the bunched material tightened under the lunch box and tore.

Nia's hand slid.

Kai rolled toward the mouth.

Her lower hand caught the waistband of his jeans. The upper hand landed against his side, fingers spread across wet skin. It stopped the roll before his shoulder moved under the box, but it did not put him back where he had been.

"Stay with me," Nia said.

Kai kept his teeth together. The pressure beneath his right ribs had become a hard, narrow line. His trapped wrist lay under it, numb past the point where he could tell which fingers belonged to his hand and which pain belonged to the floor.

"I'm here."

"Don't go slack on me."

He wanted to tell her that going slack had not been a choice. His good knee had folded under him. The bad ankle lay stretched ahead. The left arm did nothing but pull at the damaged shoulder whenever his body turned.

Instead, he said, "I'm trying."

Nia's breath crossed the back of his neck. "Try harder."

The torn part of the shirt dragged beneath her hand. She tried to get her fingers back under the remaining cloth at his ribs. There was no fabric left to catch there. The seam had split from his side toward the back, leaving a ragged edge under the lunch box.

Her left foot shifted in the runoff as she reached.

The movement pulled at her hips. Kai felt the waistband move in her lower hand. He turned another inch before she caught him again.

The box pressed into his left shoulder.

Pain ran down the useless arm and into the side of his chest. He made a sound before he could stop it.

"Sorry," Nia said.

"Don't move your foot."

"I was trying to get a grip."

"You had one."

"On your shirt. Your shirt is gone."

Kai shut his eyes. The water at the mouth moved around Nia's bare heel. Her right calf remained against the wall. He could hear the wet drag of her jeans when the muscle tightened, then the faint tap of blood reaching the concrete below.

The hook did not show itself.

Beyond the pipe, the crawlspace mouth stayed dark and only inches away.

Nia kept one hand at Kai's waistband. Her other hand searched along his side and found nothing but skin, torn cloth, and the edge of his jeans. She could not reach across his chest without pressing near the shoulder. She did not try.

"I need both hands lower," she said.

Kai understood before she explained.

"Then I roll."

"A little."

"Into what?"

Nia did not answer.

The wall was still at his back, but the wall no longer supported him. His good knee lay folded under his body. The scraped skin there burned through the torn denim. His bad ankle was flat ahead of him, close to the moving water but not in it. Between his hip and the floor, the trapped wrist took whatever weight Nia's hands could not hold.

There was nowhere for a small roll to end except against something already hurting.

Nia's hand at his waist moved once and stopped. There was no belt beneath her fingers. Kai had lost that much earlier, and the waistband was only wet denim stretched over his hip. The waistband seam held more firmly than the torn shirt, but it had nowhere to anchor except in her hand.

She could have kept one hand high and one low. Kai knew why she did not. The upper hand had already slipped once. If it slipped again while the lower hand stayed at his hip, his body would turn under the lunch box before either of them could catch it.

His shoulder hurt with every breath. He had to put more of his weight somewhere that already hurt and hope the next shift did not turn into a fall.

"Do it," he said.

Nia did not move at once.

"Kai."

"The shirt is already gone."

Her hand tightened at his waistband. The fingers at his side slid lower, caught the opposite edge of the jeans, and pulled. She did not pull him toward the mouth. She turned his hips a few degrees toward the wall, trying to put more of his weight on the floor instead of on the torn shirt and her hands.

Kai let the movement happen.

The floor pressed into his right side. The wrist under his ribs went from cold to a sudden bright ache. His shoulder dragged under the cracked lunch box. His good knee folded tighter beneath him and the scrape opened against the concrete.

Nia stopped when he made a choking sound.

"Too far?" she asked.

"No."

It was a lie. He said it because if she tried to undo the turn, they would have to go through it twice.

Nia heard the lie. Her thumb stayed still at his waistband.

"Say it if you need me to stop," she said.

Kai breathed once through his nose. The air scraped on the way in.

"Keep going."

Nia adjusted her grip before she moved again. One hand spread across the back of his waistband. The other found the front seam near his hip. Her fingers were cold through the soaked denim. Kai could feel her trying to make the pull even, keeping his shoulders from being dragged ahead of his hips.

For a few seconds, neither of them did anything. The water moved around her foot. His wrist throbbed under his ribs. Nia's calf trembled against the wall hard enough that the hand at his back shook with it.

Then she pulled.

She moved him another fraction.

The shift brought his right hip closer to the floor. The wall took a little of the weight along his back. It did not free the wrist. It only stopped the pressure from increasing every time Nia's hand slipped.

Her two hands ended together at his waistband: one near his spine, one at the front of his hip. The hold was stronger there. It also left his ribs and shoulder without anything between them and the next turn.

Nia let out a slow breath.

"That's all I can do," she said.

Kai looked at the bare strip of wall in front of him. The bad ankle lay near it, swollen under the dirt. He tried to move the toes and felt them answer. He did not move them again.

The seam from his shirt lay crumpled beneath the lunch box. It had torn where her hand had held it. There was no second piece of fabric close enough to replace it.

Nia's left foot slid under the water again. She did not fight it this time. Her right calf trembled against the wall. Both hands remained locked around Kai's waist.

"The jeans are going to stretch," Kai said.

"I know."

"Then we have nothing after that."

Nia did not look at the denim. She watched the small space between Kai's shoulder and the box instead, as if she could keep it from closing by watching it.

"It's holding," she said. "That's all I have."

Kai had nothing useful to ask. Nia's calf was still bleeding. Her left foot was still in the water. Neither fact changed because he said it aloud.

Nia shifted the heel of her hand at his back. The waistband pulled against Kai's skin, then settled. Her fingers followed the stitched edge instead of the wet fabric between the seams. The grip hurt more there, but it stopped sliding for the moment.

Kai could feel how little of the jeans she had to work with. The cloth at his hip had twisted under both hands. One more turn would pull it farther around his body. He kept his ribs still and let the shallow breaths come one at a time.

Nia did the same. Her breath stopped whenever her right calf tightened, then came back through her nose. She never moved the hand at his waist.

"Can you breathe?" she asked.

"A little."

"Tell me if that changes."

Kai nodded once. The movement pulled at the shoulder. He stopped before the box could scrape farther.

Outside the red pipe, something dragged across concrete. The sound came from close enough that Nia's hands tightened at once.

Kai kept his body still.

The sound stopped.

Neither of them spoke for several seconds.

Nia's fingers had found the waistband seams on both sides now. She used them to keep him turned toward the wall. The jeans stretched under her grip. The wet fabric gave a little every time he breathed, but it did not tear.

Kai felt the difference in his ribs. Without the upper hand, the box's weight did not travel through Nia's palm anymore. It went into the damaged shoulder and the floor. His right wrist remained buried beneath him. His good knee had gone quiet under the pressure, which worried him more than the scrape had.

"My knee," he said.

Nia did not look down. "What about it?"

"I can't feel the scrape."

"You can feel the rest of the leg?"

He waited for the ache above the knee, the pull in the thigh, the dull pressure where the jeans were torn. All of it was there. The scrape itself had gone numb beneath the concrete and dirt.

"Yes."

"Then leave it alone."

Nia said it without softening the words. Her right calf tightened again, and he heard her breath stop behind him. She did not loosen the waistband.

Kai did not ask about her leg. Neither of them had a way to act on the answer.

The water moved around her left foot. The monster stayed beyond the pipe. The torn shirt seam under the box could not hold anything anymore.

Nia adjusted one finger at the waistband. Kai felt the denim pull. It held.

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