Page 70 of One Last Shot

Later.

Now he picked his way under the light down to the river, the rocks black, icy, the rain soaking him through. The river swelled, frothed, roared, the headlights of the vehicle winking out as the van rocked in the water.

Boo grabbed his arm to steady herself as she reached the shoreline and flashed her lightover the water.

The Caravan now sat at an angle, dipping toward the driver’s side, away from them.

“I think there’s someone in the passenger seat!” The roar of the rain and river nearly ate his words. He shucked off his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“The river is going to take that van any second. I need to get them out.”

“Oak! You’ll get swept away—don’t?—”

“Keep the light on the van!” He stepped out into the river.

Icy, brutal, the water gushed into his boots and sucked away his breath. Even more as he took another step.

“Oaken! Don’t!”

Sirens moaned in the distance.

The water jostled the van. He took another step, the water up to his knees, rising fast. The next step had him catching his balance, gritting his teeth.

“Okay, fine—take this!”

He turned and saw her half in the water, holding a rock.

“For the window!”

Good idea. He took the rock, then eased his way deeper, fighting the pull of the current. He’d entered some ten feet above the vehicle, the river pushing him downstream as he ventured closer. The water reached his hips, and the pull nearly knocked him over.

Another step and suddenly the river swept out his feet. He swam hard for the van as the river grabbed him and flushed him downstream.

He hit a rock with his feet and pushed off it, nearly got his hands on the sliding door. The river yanked him away.No!He fought, kicking hard, and his hands grasped the door handle, then—yes, the mirror. Fingertips frozen, he still managed to hold on, then pull himself against the current.

Boo’s light illuminated a woman trapped inside, banging against thepassenger window.

He tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Shoving one foot into the wheel well, the other grasping the sliding-door latch, he lifted the rock. “Get back!”

Maybe she heard him, because she leaned away and buried her head in her arms.

He slammed the rock against the window. It cracked and he hit it again.

It shattered, jagged edges around the frame.

“Hey!” he said, and the woman looked up.

Early twenties, so much fear in her eyes. His resolve hardened. “Get back! I’m going to clean out the window.”

She turned again, and he banged at the shards of glass around the rim, clearing it as best he could.

A glance past her to the driver revealed a man stuck to his seat by the airbag, unconscious.

Hers hadn’t deployed. Maybe a good thing.

The woman was already unbuckled. “Get me out of here!”