Submerged

“I agree. So promise me, no blame.”

Marcus cursed under his breath and slammed a fist on the wheel. Then he took a deep breath. “I promise. No blame.”

“My feet are so numb I can’t feel my toes.”

He could almost taste her fear. “Hold on, Rebecca. Hold on.”

“I’m afraid to hang up. This might be my last call to you.”

He barely heard her words as something flashed up ahead. A sign! One he’d forgotten about. And carved into wood was a picture of two robust pigs with wings.

“Oh my god,” he said, elated. “Flying pigs.”

“What?”

“I found the pigs, Rebecca. Colton wasn’t hallucinating. It’s a sign on the side of the road for a pig farm. It closed down a few years ago. I’m close.”

A second later, Rebecca said, “Colton says he saw the pigs in the sky, above the trees. But that makes no sense if it’s a sign on the side of the road.” She was sobbing uncontrollably now.

“I think there’s a sign on the building. That must be what he saw. Hold on.”

A few yards ahead, Marcus spotted the dirt road that led to the pig farm. He’d been down that road before. With Jane. They used to buy meat here. If his recollection was accurate, the road wove down to the river and circled back to meet the highway about a mile south.

“I know where you left the highway,” he said. “I can see the road.”

“Hurry, Marcus! The water’s up to my knees.”

“Mom!” he heard Colton shout. “The car’s filling up with water! We have to get out!”

“I know, honey, help’s on the way,” Rebecca cried. “Marcus! Help us!”

Deep ruts were carved into the mud ahead of him. Two sets of vehicle tracks—Rebecca’s and a wide-based truck tire with heavy treads.

Marcus stomped on the gas pedal and sped down the road. He swerved, barely missing an uprooted tree that had fallen across the road. “I’m almost at the farm. I see your tire tracks. I’m almost there.”

The SUV bumped and jerked as he whipped down the road at breakneck speed. “I see the farm!”

Above the building was a silver weathervane that was lit by a soft light. The flying pigs again.

“Flying pigs in the sky,” he murmured. That’s what Colton had seen.

“Can you see us?” Rebecca pleaded. “The water’s halfway up my calves.”

“I’m almost to the river.”

On the other end he heard Colton crying. “Try to stay calm.”

Rebecca’s voice was thick with terror. “The water’s coming in faster, Marcus.”

The tree line broke, and the river appeared to his left, swirling and churning. But no car. He followed the road alongside the river as fast as he could, his tires bouncing in and out of mud-filled ruts. Don’t let me get stuck in the mud now!

Though he wasn’t sure he really believed in a God, he found himself praying desperately to a higher being. Please let me get there in time. Please, God.

He pressed the Bluetooth tightly to his ear. “Rebecca, I’m nearly there.”

“I have to get out. I have to get my children out.”

As Marcus rounded another corner, the headlights of his car swept along the side of the road, illuminating the river. Still nothing.

“Rebecca, honk your horn.”

He rolled down the window and leaned out. In the distance he heard something. “Honk again!”

Then he heard it, clear as a bell. “You’re up ahead.”

“Really?” Rebecca cried. “Can you see us?”

The first things he saw were two pairs of muddy tracks that led toward the river. He slowed the SUV and noticed a small but sharp ridge of ground that lined the riverbank. A burly tree had a gouge on one side and what could only be red paint was scraped into the bark.

It only took him a second to put the pieces together. This was the spot where Rebecca’s car had gotten hung up. It had been pushed up to the top of the ridge, where it had teetered, while rubbing against the tree that had blocked her door.

He maneuvered the SUV as close as possible so the headlights lit up the edge of the bank. This was where the truck had rammed her once more, sending her car shooting through the air toward the water.

“I should see you any minute now, Rebecca.”

He parked and jumped out of his vehicle. With the cell phone tucked in his pocket and Bluetooth activated, he approached the edge. His flashlight swept over the area. There was about an eight-foot drop to the water, and to his right, concrete steps led down to a rugged wood dock that extended twenty feet into the river directly in front of him. Something at the end of the dock glowed with a soft light.

And there it was—Rebecca’s car.

While attempting to escape the truck, she had driven toward the river, and the final impact of the truck had propelled her vehicle into the air. After a short flight, the Hyundai had landed midway on the dock, splintering some of the thick planks. It was now almost a quarter submerged, the front end lower than the back.

Damn it all to hell.

It wouldn’t be long before the dock collapsed entirely and the car slid beneath the water. He was running out of time—and so were Rebecca and her kids.

“I see your car,” he said, his heart sinking.

“You’re here?”