it spun, making me throw a hand up in front of my eyes.
It was going too fast. Unstoppable.
Straight into the river.
The two round lights winked out, and it disappeared into darkness.
2
The Body Goes
Daisy
By the time I realized I should have hit the button to open the window on my way down the bank, the time for wishing was over. The water was already past my ankles, and rising fast.
Breathe. Think. Act.
I reached behind me, found the headrest release button with my thumb, and pulled the whole thing up and out. My only hope.
The water was to my knees.
I couldn’t get out through the windshield. That could be true for the front windows as well, and I didn’t have time to find out. Although once I unfastened my seatbelt, I was hurting my chances in another way.
No help for it. Rear window.
The car was small. Fortunately, so was I. I shoved and kicked my way between the front seats into the back as the car rocked under me, knelt on the rear seat, flipped the headrest so I was holding the fabric part with two hands, reared back, and bashed at the rear window.
Nothing.
I was kneeling in water now. That was good, though. The car needed to fill more for this to work.
I could do it. I was going to do it. I forced myself to wait until the water reached my chest, then hauled back and hit the window again, harder this time.
A crack. I thought. No, definitely a crack, because water was trickling in through it. Good. Brilliant.
The water was to my throat. Soaking me. Freezing me. Trying to drown me. I hauled back again and sent the thought out. I’m coming to get you, Fruitful and Obedience. Don’t worry. I’m coming. I focused all my energy on this moment, hauled in the deepest breath I had just before the water reached my nose, and slammed the metal rods against the window like it was my last act on earth. Like it was my victory.
The glass pebbled into a thousand pieces, and I grabbed the edge of the window frame, forcing the cubes of glass to crumble, and fought the force of the water rushing in the rest of the way. Once it had equalized, I shoved myself up and out, turning, tucking, rolling until there was nothing holding me back.
The cold punched into me like an avalanche, shocking me, numbing me. I didn’t fight it, or the current, either. I was still holding my breath. My lungs were balloons, and balloons rose.
I rose.
When my head broke the surface, I gasped, hauled in a breath, coughed, shoved the hair from my face, and looked around.
Nothing but darkness. Black water. Gray fog.
The highway was somewhere, though. I needed to find it, because when I got out, I was going to need help to survive. I turned, my limbs made clumsy by cold and shock, and saw it. A barely-there brightness in the gloom, or a lessening of the dark. That would be headlights.
I swam to the light. No need to fight the current. I swam with it, angling my way toward the shore. I was slow, and I was struggling, but I swam anyway. I’d been slow before, and I’d struggled before, and I finished every time. In first place or in last, what matters is finishing, and I was going to finish this.
Finishing is all about will, and all about pride. Even if you do it on your hands and knees.
When you do triathlons, your life is about struggling. When you’re me, period, your life is about struggling.
The body goes where the mind takes it. My mantra. I said it to myself, and I swam.
My canvas trainers felt like lead weights, and the cold was a painful thing, like burning in a fire. I put my sisters’ little-girl faces out there beyond the light and forced my arms and legs to move.
I wasn’t dying like this. Not tonight.
Swim.
Something grabbed me. It had my shirt. Pulling me.
I was caught. I was caught.
No panic.
No panic.
Gray
I was out of the ute the instant it came to a stop, grabbing the heavy torch from its mount, laying it on the seat, and yanking at my bootlaces.
You can’t go in there, my rational brain, my rugby brain, tried to tell me. You don’t even know where they are. You’ll die for nothing.
I saw them go in, and I’ll find them, my other brain, the one that answered to something higher than rugby, answered. I’ll