Thirty-Five
Rilee
Water and debris erupted into the sky, extinguishing all my thoughts.
Under my toes the ground trembled in a queasy vibration.
Both Craig and I stood, turning toward the noise.
The southbound span of the bridge over the river had crumbled, tipping into the water.
Orange construction markers floated on the waves, now brown with silt and debris.
Cars were in the water. One of them, propelled by the surging river, started to roll, like a child tumbling down a hill in slow motion.
“Come on,” Craig grabbed my hand, heading through a side gate into the parking lot. “They’re not going to last long enough for emergency services.”
Throwing his coat onto the hood of his truck Craig looked down the slope into the river.
“You remember how to use the winch?” The question took me by surprise.
Not waiting for me to keep up, Craig unlocked his truck and pressed the keys into my hand.
“I don’t know if I can make it back without help. ”
Craig was going into the river. Out to the car.
The thoughts shifted into place. Of course he was, and I was staying here to run the winch, to pull him back.
“I remember,” I answered. Then I remembered more, “Wait a minute.” Rushing to my car I retrieved the red life preserver destined for the thrift store and the cane he’d left at my house.
“Take these,” I said, pressing the flotation device and cane into his hands.
He stared at the cane for a moment and then reached into the cab of his truck and pulled out a second.
Doing what I’d learned, I searched through the glove box for the hand control while Craig readied himself.
He’d wrapped a strap around his chest and shoulder and hooked the winch line to it.
Then with one arm through the life preserver, and the other holding onto the canes, he climbed over the parking lot railing.
His experience-worn eyes met mine, “Lower me down. When I’m at the water line, open the clutch and I’ll wade out. When I’m ready to come back, I’ll signal, but bring it in really slow.” Leaning back, the winch and cable pulled tight.
Gently squeezing the reverse toggle, I lowered Craig down the rocky bank, the winch groaning like a pepper mill. At the bottom Craig took a cane in each hand and stepped into the rushing water. Flicking the clutch off I tried to keep an eye on the line.
Craig
The first step wasn’t bad, but when the icy water rose to mid-thigh in just two strides, I realized this was a dumb idea.
Probably the worst I’d ever had. The current pressed against me making each step into the river also a step downstream.
In the press I stumbled, my foot catching on the rocky bottom and I tasted river water and cement dust as I went under, the river swallowing me.
I regained my footing only after jamming both canes into the river bed and driving my braced foot into the loose stone of the bottom.
“Wrof,” I huffed, clearing my mouth. Wet, head to toe, the gentle spring breeze sent my body into a painful shivering spasm.
Forcing deep breaths through my lungs I regained control of my spasming muscles and pressed on.
Jam one cane down, take a step, jam the second cane down, take a step, repeat.
Keeping three points of contact with the river bottom, I edged out into the open river.
Underneath me the bottom dropped another foot and I had to reorient myself on the car.
The vehicle had come to rest on its side, jammed against a large submerged rock, though its rest was temporary.
The small hatchback shifted as the force of the river pounded against it.
Water was filling the interior and I saw a hand press against the windshield momentarily before disappearing.
Angling toward the vehicle I was grateful for the stiffness of my brace as it held my ankle rigid and upright against the crushing force of the current.
Pressing on, the water rushed up over my waist, making the canes useless.
But I was only a few yards away now so I raised them over head trying to extend my balance until I was close enough to hook them on the car itself and pull myself to it.
The windows were closed but I tapped on the window-glass before struggling to lift the door open. “Are you okay?” I shouted knowing the question was stupid.
“Thank God,” a woman called out. “I … I don’t know. The water is coming in, I couldn’t get the door open.”
“Are you caught?” I couldn’t see her and the weight of the door was growing against my shoulder. The cold of the river water which at first had kept the burn in my bad leg at bay was now moving into my bones.
“No, the seat belt came off, I just OH!” The last was a shout. “Oh! I think the baby is coming!”
Baby? “You’re pregnant?”
The woman wheezed before exhaling, “Yes.” Something on the river bottom shifted and the car squealed, pivoting on the rock it was jammed against. The car door slipped out of my hand and slammed closed. Time was slipping away.
Forcing open the door again I jammed one of the canes into the opening.
“I can’t lift you out, you are going to have to pull yourself up,” I shouted over the river.
“Pull on this and get a foot on the seat,” I directed, laying the second cane across the opening.
Two small hands appeared, gripping the makeshift brace, and then a head, soggy brown hair plastered across her face.
Folding my body against the car to stay out of the current, I wedged my hard plastic encased right foot between the car and the river bottom to gain leverage, like wiring a bonsai to the bottom of the pot for security.
I struggled to find a part of her to grasp.
My fingers wrapped around an upper arm and I pulled as she pushed.
The muscles in my upper back protested, but with the solid foundation of the wedged brace it was enough and her baby swollen torso emerged.
Claiming a moment of rest, she sat on the car-door pillar.
The small, very pregnant, woman was soaked through, her lips tinged blue.
“Okay, that’s the hard part,” I lied, trying to reassure her as I disentangled my foot. Spread out against the car, sheltering against the hungry pull of the Spokane river, I felt the vehicle slip again. If I wasn’t careful we’d be crushed by the vehicle as it rolled.
“Woah,” the woman cried, reaching out to me at the movement.
“Time to go,” I said, extending my arms to her.
“Hold on to me and the float.” Her belly was awkward, a basketball jammed between us, but we found a way to wrap our arms around each other.
Looking back toward shore, I found Rilee.
The shore was a lot farther than I remembered, and the slope much higher.
I shouted, but the sound didn’t carry. Taking a chance, I let go with one hand, prompting the lady to cry out, and waved toward Rilee, hoping Rilee would recognize the signal and save us. She waved back.
“Go slow,” I prayed. Then the car slammed into my back, spinning free, and we went down into the water. It was in my nose, and my eyes, and my ears. My legs floundered in the flow, and fists of debris pummeled me, crushing my thigh, punching my kidney, hammering across my back.
Rilee
My stomach leaped into my throat when Craig stepped and fell into the water.
He’d made steady progress, leaning on the canes against the force of the river.
Twenty yards away I couldn’t do anything except hold onto the winch controller and wonder if I should pull him back and abandon the car.
Just as I reached out to close the clutch, he pushed up into the air flinging water off his head.
A pipe rolled off the twisted bridge and was caught up in the current.
The length of metal spun in the water, a mere arm’s span behind Craig, he didn’t react to it all, just pressing on step by step.
Sirens blared behind me and other people began emerging into the parking lot, cell phones to their ears.
The water rose above his waist and again all I could do was hold on. No, I could be ready!
Rummaging in the cab I found a pair of gloves to mend the line when it came time to reel it in. Then I turned on the truck. I probably didn’t need to gas the engine but if the battery died Craig would be stranded. In the middle of the river, Craig approached the trapped vcle.<
“Someone is in there, I saw a hand!” A woman behind me shouted.
No shit someone’s in there, Craig’s not risking his life because he feels like it.
I wanted to shout at the idiot, but I didn’t.
Instead, I flicked the clutch on when Craig made contact with the wrecked car.
Other vehicles were still on the bridge's remains and a few brave souls were venturing out to assist those drivers.
The high-pitched cry of a child somewhere cut through the din and echoed off the river rock.
“He’s got her,” the overly observant woman narrated.
I hadn’t been watching and a stab of worry dug into my belly.
A squat woman slid off the overturned vehicle, wrapping her arms around Craig’s thick shoulders.
Craig worked the life preserver over her head and arm and turned to begin the return journey.
Like a thirsty drunk I took the broad wave as the signal I’d been waiting for.
I waved back, ready to begin the retrieval, when another floating pipe slammed into the stuck vehicle’s bumper. The car wobbled, and then caught by the force of the river, spun free, striking Craig and the woman. The pair disappeared beneath the water.