A Glimpse of Evil (20 page)

After another moment’s hesitation, the boy shrugged. “Wait here,” he told us befrore partially shutting the door and dashing off into the interior of the house. He came back some minutes later holding a black address book. After flipping through several pages, he read the phone number and the address out loud to Candice, who scribbled it down while I held the umbrella over her head.

We then thanked Patrice’s cousin and rushed back through the downpour to the car. As we strapped in, my stomach gurgled. “Uh-oh,” Candice said with a smirk.

“Sorry. I only had time for toast and coffee this morning.”

Candice eyed the clock on the dash. “It is after twelve,” she said. Then she peered out at the rain. “Come on. Let’s get some lunch and call ahead to Patrice’s mother to tell her we want to talk.”

“That is a great idea!” I said. (I was mostly talking about the lunch part.)

We ate at a place called Papa’s Café, which served a lot of burgers, shakes, and fries—my kind of sustenance.

Candice called Patrice’s mother, whose name was Loraine. It was a good thing we called ahead, because the woman needed lots of coaxing before she agreed to talk with us. And I could only imagine that her reluctance was due to the pain of losing a child and not wanting to revisit that awful day.

Luckily, by the time we’d finished our meal, the rain had given way to a steady drizzle, which was definitely preferable to what we’d ridden through earlier.

While Candice drove, I read her the instructions Loraine had given, which weren’t that great, and before long we were definitely lost. “What’s that sign say?” Candice asked as we approached another street sign.

“Zephyr Road,” I said.

“What street are we looking for?”

“South Stewart Street.”

“Are you sure we weren’t supposed to go west on I-Twenty?”

“You wrote down east.”

Candice grimaced. “I’m turning back,” she announced.

“Why don’t you use your iPhone?”

“Remember how it got us lost before?”

“Good point. There’s always pulling over and asking for directions.”

Candice sighed. “Okay,” she agreed. “I think there was a gas station back the way we came.”

Candice turned around and headed east. At the next intersection she turned right. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“This is the way we came.”

“Uh, no, it’s not.” I was pretty sure it wasn’t.

“Yes, it was,” Candice insisted.

Because she sounded so certain, I began to doubt myself. Truth be told, the area we were in was pretty sparse, so much of it looked the same to me. “Okay,” I conceded. “If you say so.”

Abruptly we came to a blinking red light and, just beyond that, a section of the road that was covered with water and a sign that read LOW WATER CROSSING.

“Crap,” Candice snapped.

I was now positive that we had not come this way, because I would have remembered the water. “I knew this wasn’t right,” I muttered to myself.

I expected Candice to turn around, but she inched forward tentatively. “Where are you going?” I asked her.

“See that?” she said, pointing up the road. “That’s a gas station. We can ask them for directions.”

Immediately I had a bad feeling. “Uh . . . Candice?”

My partner edged closer to the water. “Hold on, Abs, I’m trying to see how deep it is.”

“I don’t think we should cross it.”

Candice sat up and smiled. “It’s only an inch or two,” she said confidently, and pressed the accelerator. We moved into the shallows with ease, water splashing around the wheel wells. “See?” she told me with a grin. “Easy peezy.”

My heart was hammering in my chest, and my radar was sounding the alarm, but there was little I could do.

Not even a moment later the car began to turn at an odd angle. “What’s happening?” I gasped, gripping the side of the car.

Candice eased off the accelerator and tried to correct by turning the wheel. No sooner did she do that than the car turned even more sharply and slid along the path of the running water. “Damn it!” she exclaimed.

“Ohmigod?!”
I shouted, feeling something hard slam against the underside of the car. Water started leaking through the crack in the bottom of my door. “Candice! We’re taking on water!”

“I’m working on it, Abby!” I could see her turning the wheel this way and that, trying to find purchase while she punched the accelerator, but it had no effect; we were sliding right off the road into the river next to us.

My eyes focused on the river for a moment and a terrible feeling really set in. “Ohmigod!
Look out!
”

But there was nothing we could do. Within a few heartbeats the car was caught in the current and Candice and I were in serious trouble.

The Porsche twisted and turned and huge chunks of debris slammed against the sides. All the while the interior continued to take on water. In total panic now I tugged at the door, trying to get it open. “We have to get out of here!” I shouted.

Candice reached over and undid my seat belt, then hers. “Abby!” she commanded. “Try to remain calm!”

In the next instant a giant tree limb slammed into our windshield, spraying us with glass and water. I screamed and flailed my hands around wildly.

Candice grabbed my wrist, pulled me to her, and shook me. “Focus!” she commanded, while water poured into the hole made by the tree trunk.

“No, we’re not!”

The car tipped then and sent us tumbling over. Candice fell right on top of me and for one terrible moment my head was completely submerged. I began to flail about again and all I could think about was how I didn’t want to drown.

Something else slammed hard into the car, and for a brief second, it tipped up again, allowing Candice to move off me enough for my head to get above water. I sputtered and coughed and felt Candice grip the back of my neck tightly with one hand while she pushed her torso against me.

I had no idea what she was doing until I heard more glass breaking, and realized she was kicking out the glass from her side window. “Stay with me!” she yelled when she finally got the glass free.

I tried to focus on her instructions, which were short and to the point. “Push yourself to the top of the window and get out of the car! Once you’re free, hold on until I get out. Whatever you do, don’t go into that river without me!”

The moment she finished speaking, I clawed my way forward, through the window, and out onto the side of the car. I held on for dear life, but nearly lost my grip when the car slammed into a large rock and wedged against it. Rushing water surged all around and pressed me up against the side of the car so hard that it was difficult to breathe.
“Candice!”
I screamed, fearing that something had happened to her inside the car.

To my relief she finally appeared, and shimmied out of the window. “Hold on!” she commanded.

But as she said that, movement out the corner of my eye caught my attention. To my horror I watched as a giant tree limb came barreling down the river, aimed straight for us!

I looked up at Candice for a split second. She shook her head no.
“Don’t!”
she cried, knowing what I was thinking. She then made a desperate grab for my arm. But I knew there wasn’t time for her to help me. That limb would smash me flat in the next second.

And so, with a hard shove I pushed away from the car, and was immediately sucked into the torrent.

Okay, so, in hindsight, maybe letting go of the car and taking my chances with a raging river wasn’t the best idea, but at the time, it certainly seemed preferable to getting smunched.

Some of what happened next is still a little fuzzy, but pretty much I found myself immediately submerged and tumbling around underwater like a rag doll in a washing machine.

For several panicky seconds, I had no idea which way was up, and I found out quickly that swimming was futile. For the most part I just prayed a lot and tried to hold my breath, hoping that with lungs full of air I might pop back up to the surface before I actually drowned.

Instead, I got clobbered by something heavy that raked against the top of my head and sliced along my scalp. Reflexively I put my hand up and felt the rough uneven texture of bark. I grabbed for it almost without thinking, and that minor move, more than anything, is what saved my life.

I managed to get a firm hold on my first try and pull my head above water. The moment my mouth cleared the surface, I sucked in a huge lungful of air, and continued pumping my chest like a bellows to feed my starving lungs.

Once I was properly fueled with oxygen, I could take stock of my situation—which was grim at best. I discovered that the same massive tree that had come charging at me while I was clutching the side of the car was the one that had chased me downstream, conked me on the head, and was now taking me on a log ride. Together we were barreling down the river with tons of other debris, and in the distance I saw the unmistakable sight of white water. There were rapids ahead. “Oh,
fork
me!” I gasped, and in the back of my mind, for no good reason I mentally patted myself on the back for not swearing, even though my life was about to end and it no longer really mattered.

I eyed the banks on either side of the river. Both were impossible to reach with this kind of a current. I then tried steering the massive piece of wood that was keeping me afloat, but it was too big and the water too fast to get it to cooperate. I tried to think of something, anything, that I could do to avoid the rapids, but absolutely nothing came to mind. I was S.O.L., people. Sheep outta luck.

And then, out of nowhere something long and dark flew out across the river so fast that I almost didn’t catch it. In the next instant I heard a
thwang
, followed by a
snap
, and I was suddenly staring at a red rag, dangling from a rope suspended over the river seventy to eighty yards ahead.
“Grab the rope!”
someone on the right bank shouted.

I looked desperately along the right bank for the owner of the command, but couldn’t see anyone.
“Focus on the rope!”
he shouted again, and I quickly obeyed, turning my head to focus on that rag dangling just above the water.

My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest; it was beating so hard. The rope was getting closer and closer, and if I didn’t manage to grab it, there was little doubt about my chances in those rapids.

“Please, please, please, please,
please
let me make it!” I whimpered as the distance closed between me and the rope.

“Put your arm up!”
the voice commanded.

With a trembling hand I did as he said.

“Try and loop your arm over the top, then let go of the tree and grip the rope with your other hand!”

The rope was low enough that I felt I could do it. I was headed straight for that red flag. Drawing closer, and closer, I had all my attention focused on it when something smacked hard against my shin and I cried out. As I did so, I lost my grip on the limb, sank under the water, and lost sight of the rope. Using every ounce of energy I had left, I kicked my legs and reached overhead. My palm connected with something and reflexively I closed my fingers around it.

I could have wept with relief when I realized I’d somehow managed to grab the rope! Holding on for dear life with one hand, I managed to clutch it with my other too, but quickly discovered that the current was working against me. It was so strong that it wouldn’t allow me to get closer to the rope so that I could pick my head up out of the water.

I tried twisting and turning, but that almost cost me the hold on the rope. With significant effort I pulled myself up like doing a chin-up and managed to get my mouth clear enough to take a gulp of air before I had to relax my arms again and sank under the swift water. I realized that my situation was incredibly dire. I knew I probably had enough energy for one or two more chin-ups before my arms would give out. I barely had enough reserve strength to hold on to the rope. Still, I counted to three, and pulled. I managed to get my chin above water long enough for a couple of pants while I considered my options.

I thought about trying to shimmy sideways along the rope to make it to the bank, but that would take time, and I knew I couldn’t hold my breath long enough to make it.

What I really needed was air, and that’s what drove me to relax my arms, sink under the water, and use my body to twist onto my back. With my arms crossed behind my head, I was able to prop my head just above the waterline. I closed my eyes and just focused on filling my lungs with air.

I was at that point where I was ready to consider what I could do next to get out of this mess when I felt a tremendous tug on the line. Arching my back and looking over my left shoulder, I found the source; there was a huge tree branch snagging the line. And, just behind that, something that looked like a refrigerator coming fast and furious down the river.

Luckily, it was far enough off to my left not to hit me directly. Unluckily, I figured that once it hit the rope, it could very well snap the line and all that effort I’d exerted just to hold on would be wasted.

About then I reached that moment that happens in a life-or-death situation where you’re just so tired, and your situation is just so bad, that you mentally give up and let go. There was no way I was going to make it; too many variables were against me. It was useless.

In those next few seconds my life did not flash before my eyes. I didn’t think about Dutch, or my family, my friends, or even my dogs.

I wasn’t sad, or afraid, or worried about what would happen next. I suppose I just felt numb. Almost peaceful. Really, I think I was simply resigned.

I took one last big gulp of air.

Counted to three.

Closed my eyes.