halted her progress. Unwelcome thoughts of the nightmare hounds kept forcing their way into her mind. She found herself imagining what their jet-black jaws would look like up close, the fetid smell of their breath, how their teeth would feel as they sank into her arm or leg.
A dark shape in the river caught her eye, and she froze.
Her breathing became shallow, soundless. Every muscle in her body tensed itself for flight if the shadow so much as twitched. Moments passed, punctuated by the thumping of her heart, but the shape didn't move. As the initial fear loosened its grip on her, she realized that she recognized the object in the water.
It was the buggy.
"Father!" she called, the shadow creatures forgotten. "Mother! Can you hear me?"
No reply came from the wreck. She began running along the bank, yelling her parents' names. Twice, her dress coiled around her legs and sent her sprawling in the mud, but she didn't stop. When she reached the point where the riverbank came closest to the buggy, she waded out into the water. The river rose to her waist, but she couldn't reach the wreck. This close, she could see the upturned rear wheels rising out of the water. The buggy had completely capsized, and there was no sign of the team. Anyone still inside would be trapped. Shivering, she called out again. Silence.
Helpless, Victoria waited, hoping for an answer or movement or any sign at all that her parents were still alive. The silence became ominous, sending waves of fear through her mind. As her panic grew, she pulled off her overcoat and tossed it behind her. Her fingers began tugging at the laces crisscrossing her back. She hesitated, wondering what a fool she would make of herself if she had to return home in only her wet smallclothes. If her parents were still alive, they would be too humiliated to show their faces in public after such a display. Any hope she had of finding a halfway-decent husband would be dashed.
She shook herself. What on earth was she thinking? Pulling the laces free, she peeled her dress away from her shoulders and down over her hips. The current played with the laces as she stepped out of it and rolled it into a lumpy ball. She tossed it toward the bank, where it landed with a soggy splash. Now free of the crippling weight, Victoria started toward the wreck.
The river swirled around her in dark eddies as she waded toward the drowned buggy. As the water rose to her shoulders, she realized she would have to swim to reach it. She'd never been a strong swimmer, and even this light current made her uneasy. Survival instinct had fueled her earlier push to shore; if the current swept her downstream, she wasn't sure she could make it to the riverbank a second time. Still, if her parents were trapped under the buggy, she had to help them.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed off with her toes and began swimming. The current picked her up immediately, pushing her away from the wreck. She fought against it, kicking upstream until she caught hold of a wheel. The buggy shifted slightly beneath her weight, but it didn't come loose. Hand over hand, she made her way toward where the opening should have been.
Swinging around to the side of the wreck, Victoria got her first good look at what remained of the upper half. The entire top had broken loose of the wheels and fallen forward. Most of the cab was submerged, anchored to the riverbed by its own weight. Victoria sucked in a breath and pulled herself along the frame, submerging her head. Keeping her eyes closed, she felt along the buggy's side. Her fingers found a metal edge, and she pulled herself toward it. The riverbed brushed up against her shoulder. The opening was barely wide enough to accommodate her arm, but she plunged it in anyway. Fingers spread out, she groped for an arm, a leg, anything that might be her mother or father.
Something bumped against her outstretched hand, and she clutched at it. Wet cloth slid between her fingers. It was an arm. She shook it, hoping to feel a twitch or flex in response. Nothing. Frantic, she began pulling it toward the opening. The arm came easily enough at first, but it stopped short before she could pull it through. No matter how she pulled, it refused to come any closer.