Page 3 of Turn That River Red

Another splash.

I scurry down the rock, fumbling around in my dress pocket for the key to the golf cart. It’s not there. I left it in the cart, the way I always do when I come out to the river. Because I assumed I would be alone out here.

In a sudden surge of panic, I switch my flashlight off. But just as I’m plunged into darkness, one of the rocks beneath my feet dislodges, and I fall sideways, splashing into the river.

Thanks to the afternoon thunderstorms, the current is strong. Before I can find my footing, it sweeps me out intothe center of the river. I cry out, water sputtering into my mouth, and try to stand. But my feet don’t quite touch the bottom.

I know how to swim, but I’m out of practice—swimming is for children, and I’m an adult now. I’m also wearing a calf-length cotton dress, another mark of womanhood in the Church of the Well, and the fabric tangles around my legs as I kick them out, trying to get my body upright. Water keeps splashing over me, and my dress drags me down below the surface, and I wonder if it’s finally my time to walk into the dazzling light of Heaven and fall into the arms of Jesus Christ.

And, just for a moment, I stop struggling. I let myself sink.

But I can’t do it. Not when my lungs start burning for air. A sinner’s instinct for survival kicks in, and I push myself up, gasping when I break the surface. I gulp down air, furiously treading water. The river pours around me, but I realize with some relief that I’m out of the eddy that dragged me away from the shore.

But it’s still dark, and the water is black and unfathomable. However, I’m not as worried about cottonmouths as I am the rage of Reverend Gunner if he finds out I left the compound without permission.

I take a deep breath and dive under the water, swimming with the graceful butterfly stroke I learned a lifetime ago, before my parents died and I lived in a leafy Dallas suburb and wore whatever I wanted. It’s hard, with the way my dress keeps wanting to drag me down, the fabric heavy and waterlogged. But I use every ounce of my strength and push forward, moving toward the bank.

But something’s in the water.

It’s too dark for me to see what it is. Certainly not a snake, but not a log, either. It’s round and shaggy, and I think it’s a soccer ball at first. Someone kicked it into the river and didn’t bother to retrieve it.

But then the river surges it toward me, and I see the gleam of?—

Eyes?

And suddenly, I’m staring at a man’s face, his gaze blank and unseeing, his mouth twisted in terror.

I scream and water floods into my mouth, and then I realize it’s the same water that a dead body has been floating in and that just makes me retch and choke and try to splash away, but somehow splashing away brings the body—no, thehead, it’s just a head—closer to me. It kisses against my shoulder and I shriek and push it away, which means I touch it, the skin clammy and cold.

The head rolls up, eyes staring at the heavens, and it looks?—

It looks familiar?

“Raul?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

No, it can’t be. It’s dark and I’m panicking and what I need to do is get out of this river and not convince myself I’m seeing a friend in the water.

I kick away, but my eyes don’t leave the head. Because even in the dark, it does look like Raul. His dark hair. His high cheekbones. I know what Raul Alvarez looks like because I used to bring him cold water every day when he was training with the rest of the Soldiers of God. Or at least I did until Reverend Gunner told me it was untoward for a helpmeet to spend time with single men.

But Istill talk to him, when the reverend or one of his spies aren’t around.

“Raul?” I keep swimming backwards, staring at the head bobbing in the water. My voice cracks. “Raul?”

My feet touch the surface, and I turn around and splash up the embankment—thank the Father I’m actually on the right side of the river. My golf cart sits where I left it, and I half-run, half-stumble up to it, flinging myself into the seat. The key sits in the ignition, right where I left it, too. I let out a sob of reliefwhen the engine comes on, that I’m not a girl in a horror movie who’s been stranded with?—

With a killer?

I throw the cart into reverse and peel away from the river, tears streaking over my cheeks, mixing with the river water streaming out of my hair. I turn the cart around so quickly that it tilts up on its left wheels and then lands with a terrible crunch. But it’s still working, and I drive away, pushing it as fast as it can go.

Which is not that fast. It’s a golf cart, not a car.

I glance in the rearview mirror but all I see is the faint grey line of the sky. The sun is starting to rise.

My panic doesn’t subside, though. I’m not being followed. But I found a dead body. And that means I’ll have to tell the reverend, a thought that gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. But I can’t leave the body there to rot.

Especially if it is Raul, who’s always so kind and respectful, who teaches me how to say things in Spanish. Raul’s the sort of man I always imagined myself marrying, before Reverend Gunner told me my calling was elsewhere.

I squeeze the steering wheel tightly, my tears hot and desperate.It can’t be Raul. It can’t be.

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