Nobody Gives a Courier the Right of Way

The outermost Dock Two was sealed off tonight, but Noah knew a shortcut. Old Will at the tire shop had told him about it: cut behind the container stacks, pass the abandoned cooling conduit, and you'd save ten minutes. The moment he pushed his bike into the gap, he felt a faint tremor underfoot. One pulse. Then another. Like someone was drumming on a hidden drum under the harbor floor. Noah stopped and looked up. Through the gray-white fog, the loading cranes turned like giant silhouettes. Halfway through one rotation, one of them jammed. Then a shriek of twisting steel tore across the pier, as if something massive below the water were trying to yank itself upward.