The painted sign struck the barrier before the water stopped.
Tebb’s Fittings.
Lyra had passed it yesterday while checking the route notices.
Now it lay sideways in hot waste, knocking against the safe boundary each time the surge shifted.
Marn Tebb stood behind the line with a key in his hand.
“That’s the street?”
She looked at him.
“The one we were meant to leave and come back to.”
