Page 83 of Beckett
“Hang on, sweetheart. We’re going to make it.”
The belt finally gave way. I lurched forward, immediately twisting toward her. In the dim, watery light filtering through what was left of our windows, her face was ghostly pale, eyes wide with the kind of terror I’d seen in combat—the kind that came when your brain finally understood that death wasn’t abstract anymore. It was here. It was now.
“Look at me.” I gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet my eyes while I attacked her seat belt with the knife. The blade kept slipping in my numb fingers. “We’re getting out of this.”
Water hit our chests. The cold was violence—pure, simple violence against every nerve ending. It was being beaten with hammers made of ice, each wave stealing more breath, more warmth, more time. My body wanted to curl in on itself, to protect vital organs, but I forced my hands to keep working.
“I— I—” Her teeth were chattering so hard she could barely speak.
“Almost got it.” The belt gave way, and she fell forward into me, her body shaking uncontrollably. I caught her, held her steady even as my own muscles spasmed from the cold. “Listen carefully. We can’t open the windows yet—too much pressure. We need to wait for the cab to fill.”
“What?” Her eyes went wider, but her voice stayed controlled despite the chattering teeth. “We have to wait for it to fill?”
“It’s physics. Once the pressure equalizes, we can roll down the windows.” I grabbed the window crank with fingers I could no longer feel, grateful for once that my old truck had never been upgraded to power windows. The ancient mechanism might save our lives. “When I say so, take the deepest breath you can and hold it. We’ll have maybe thirty seconds to get out and swim up.”
The water reached our shoulders. Then our necks. Each inch it rose felt like another nail in our coffin. Audra’s breathing came in short, panicked gasps that were using up precious oxygen. Her eyes darted wildly, looking for escape that didn’t exist.
“Hey.” I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to focus on me instead of the water that was about to cover our heads. Her skin was like ice under my palms. “Trust me. I’ve done this in training. We’re both getting out of here.”
She nodded, but I could see she didn’t believe me. Hell, I barely believed myself. Training in a controlled pool with safety divers was nothing like this—trapped in a truck in a freezing river with someone trying to kill us.
The water was at our chins now. I could taste it—mineral and mud and something oily from the truck’s fluids leaking. My body shook so violently it felt like my bones might shatter. Every instinct screamed at me to panic, to thrash, to fight against the inevitable.
“Deep breath on three,” I managed through chattering teeth. “One—two—three!”
We both sucked in air just as the water reached our lips. Then it rose fast—past our mouths, over our noses. Audra’s eyes went wide with primal terror as the water closed over our heads.
The silence was immediate and crushing. The only sounds were the truck settling deeper and the muffled rush of water still pouring in through cracks and seams. I kept my eyes open despite the sting, watching for the moment when the cab filled completely. The murky darkness was broken only by the weak glow of the dashboard lights, still somehow clinging to life.
Audra’s hand found mine in the darkness, squeezing hard enough that I could feel it through the numbness. Her fingernails dug into my palm—good. Pain meant we were still alive, still fighting. I squeezed back, trying to communicate without words: hold on, almost there, don’t give up.
My lungs already burned. The cold made everything worse—my body wanted to hyperventilate, to suck in air that wasn’t there. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. How long had it been? Ten seconds? Twenty? Time moved differently when you were dying.
A stream of bubbles escaped Audra’s lips. She was running out of air.
The last air pocket bubbled past the rearview mirror and escaped through the cracked windshield.
Now.
I cranked the window handle hard and fast. The mechanism protested, forty years of rust and wear fighting against me. For a terrifying moment, it stuck completely. I threw all my weight behind it, muscles screaming, and felt it give with a grinding squeal. Inch by agonizing inch, the window rolled down.
Water swirled but no longer rushed—we’d equalized. Thank God.
I pointed up, then pushed Audra toward the window. She understood immediately, pulling herself through theopening with more strength than I’d expected. Adrenaline and desperation were powerful motivators. Her foot caught me in the shoulder as she kicked free, but I didn’t care. She was out.
I followed, the edges of the window frame scraping against my shoulders, tearing my jacket as I forced myself through. The current immediately grabbed me, trying to drag me downstream. My boots were concrete blocks, my jacket a straitjacket of waterlogged fabric.
Kick. Push. Fight.
The surface felt impossibly far away. My vision tunneled, darkness creeping in from all sides. My body moved on autopilot, muscle memory from training taking over when conscious thought failed. One stroke. Another. Another.
My lungs were on fire, chest convulsing with the need to breathe. Just a little farther. Just?—
I broke through gasping, the cold air hitting my lungs like broken glass. Every breath was agony, but it was the most beautiful agony I’d ever felt.
“Audra!”
She was three feet away, coughing and sputtering, river water streaming from her nose and mouth. But she was alive. Beautifully, wonderfully, impossibly alive.
