The fall is familiar, and Amos briefly has an image of Lydia's shocked expression, Timmy going through a patchy plastic bridge never meant to serve as longterm flooring. The memory cedes itself as soon as he hits the water. It isn't salty. He isn't in Baltimore.

He hasn't been in Baltimore for a long time.

He checks the water for blue glow, or anything blackened, or moving, or a current, or rising. No, it's just going to give him hypothermia if it hits night. No quick death for him. Not yet, anyway. The glow doesn't seem dangerous just yet.

If things go too bad, he'll just ask them to drop a rock on him.

Amos' voice echoes through the darkness of the cave. "Not dead."