Location: Interstate Drafthouse
Through gritted teeth, Ali slammed a fist on the jammed door, biting back his English and falling into a string of swears in his native tongue, largely for the sake of the others trapped in the building with him. The struggling had been going on among them for a few minutes now, sloshing around in rising water, trying to get the door open. More water clung to his face and hair from an earlier venture outdoors, pasting it to his cheeks in long, dripping strands. He grunted now, taking a step back before leaning against the wall and giving a low sigh.
A leak in the ceiling sent a droplet of water directly onto his forehead, earning another low noise of irritation. Just water. You work on a boat for god’ssake. Still, perhaps it was the claustrophobia, the feeling of drowning. Ali glanced at the ceiling, to the room above where people were now huddling.
“I don’t think it’s gonna budge,” he mumbled softly, falling back to catch his breath. He gnawed on his lower lip, shaking himself out like a dog. The burly man shivered at that, trying largely in vain to dry himself out. Another droplet of water came down and landed squarely on his nose; it just about set him over the edge. “A jinn is out to get me...” He took the moment with that to take a few steps away from his cohorts, largely in an effort to compose himself.