Cheryl Tardif - Submerged

“Okay, ma’am,” he heard Leo say. “What’s the address of the fire?” There was a pause. “An apartment building? Is anybody inside?”

Marcus flew into dispatch mode, connecting to the fire department, while the casuals contacted Ambulance and Police. All the while, Leo kept the caller on the line, relaying information to Marcus and Shipley as it came in.

The call was a bad one―a gas fire in a large four-story apartment building in downtown Hinton. The building was engulfed in flames, and an unknown number of people were trapped inside. Others, visibly wounded and in shock, sat in the grass across the street and watched their lives as they knew it go up in flames.

“There’s one fire truck in the immediate area,” Marcus said to Shipley, who was hanging over his shoulder.

“How many of ours are available?”

“Edson is down to two trucks. The others were sent to the overturned rig between here and Hinton.”

“And one was sent to a barn fire over an hour ago,” Leo interjected, one hand muffling the microphone of his headset.

Shipley stood with hands on hips. “Fine. Taylor, send both our trucks.”

A shiver teased Marcus’s spine. “Maybe we should hold one back in case we have another emergency.”

“Things’ll slow down after this.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Well, aren’t you little Miss Doom-and-Gloom.”

“I have a feeling―”

“A feeling?” Shipley snorted with derision. “You want me to make a call on a feeling ?” His eyes narrowed. “What are you on, Taylor? You should know by now that we’re not Edmonton. We rarely see this much action in one night. I think we’ve filled our quota.”

Marcus opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. Shipley was his supervisor, and that trumped a weird premonitory feeling, something he’d never experienced before, though he did see ghosts. Jane. Ryan. The children in the woods in Cadomin. He’d first seen them a few days before his wife and son had been killed. He’d never told a soul about those kids. Not even Leo.

“You still with us, Taylor?”

Marcus blinked back the memory of pale faces staring at him through the cabin window. “Yeah. I’m on this.”

He relayed the address of the fire to the station in Edson, then connected to EMS. Seconds later, two ambulances were on their way. A third was being sent from Edmonton.

“There are two STARS helicopters on standby to take the most critical burn victims to the U of A Hospital,” Leo stated.

A niggling sensation crawled over Marcus’s skin.

Leo frowned. “You okay?”

“I think I’ve had too much coffee.”

Whatever it was, it burned in the pit of his stomach and began rising in his throat until he thought he’d puke.

“I need to step out,” he said, flagging down one of the casuals. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Where you going?” Shipley demanded.

“Break room. I need some water.”

His supervisor eyed him with suspicion. “Long as that’s all you’re drinking.”

“Wanna test me for that too?” Marcus snapped. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t.”

Marcus stalked off in search of a clean glass.

Rebecca first became aware of the drumming. It filtered through her consciousness, sounding an alert in her brain like a blaring home security alarm. Except there was no sound, merely a growing sense of danger.

Wherever she was, it was dark. And cold.

Something pressed against her chest. It was difficult to breathe. She tried to open her eyes, but something wet dripped into them. She groaned and fire coursed through her chest, making it hard to breathe.

What happened?

Was she ill? Did she have the flu?

The pressure on her chest eased off a bit, and she raised her head, blinking back the wetness. She tried to wipe away the… sweat? A knife-sharp ache rippled through the fingers of her right hand. She glanced down, but she couldn’t see a thing. She tried to flex her hand and almost passed out. At least two fingers were broken.

She moaned. Where am I?

It took a few minutes before reality hit her.

She was in the car. The faint light in front came from lights on the half-obscured dashboard, which she could now make out. Still, it wasn’t bright enough to take a full inventory of the damage. She reached for the interior light and turned it on. Her eyes skimmed across the dashboard and windshield. Both were intact.

She gasped. I was in an accident.

Then it hit her. She hadn’t been alone.

“Colton?” she cried out. “Ella?”

There was no reply. Had they been thrown out of the car?

Oh God…

“Colton! Answer me!”

Fighting panic, she attempted to turn in her seat, but a searing pain in her chest and ribs made her cry out. The steering wheel was lodged against her ribcage, pinning her in the driver’s seat. She reached down for the side lever, hoping to tilt the seat back and give her room to breathe.

The lever was broken.

She stretched out her left hand, trying to reach beneath the seat for the other lever that would slide the seat backward, but there was no way she could reach it.

Rebecca was trapped.

She looked down and saw blood on her shirt. She had no idea where it had come from. She tentatively touched her chest with her left hand. She nudged her ribs and sucked in a hard breath. Broken. Or at the very least sprained.

She touched her forehead and her fingers came away bloody. Possible concussion? She tried to recall what all the television shows said about that, but all she could remember was not to fall asleep. She smacked her cheek with her left hand. Stay awake!

The dashboard lights faded, and the engine made a knocking sound, so she turned off the ignition.

“Ella? Colton? It’s Mommy. Are you all right?” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I need you to say something.”

Again, no answer.

A wave of nausea swept over her.

“Do not get sick,” she whispered repeatedly.

Throwing up would weaken her further. She needed every bit of strength to get her children out of the car and back to safety.

Oh Jesus… the truck.

Was it still behind her, waiting? Was some maniac going to stroll over to the car, rip open the door and haul her outside? Why was he doing this to them?

She saw no sign of the truck in the rearview mirror, and she couldn’t make anything out beyond the windshield. The rain was too heavy. Surely if he was still out there, she’d see the lights from his truck.

He’s gone. He hit us and then left us to die.

Her feet were numb. The steering wheel was probably cutting off her circulation. That couldn’t be a good thing.

The interior light flickered. Please don’t go out.

She peered through the side window. She couldn’t even make out the moon or stars in the sky. They must be in the middle of some dense brush and trees.

She jiggled the handle, but the door wouldn’t open. “Shit.”

A low moan sounded behind her.

“Colton? Ella? Are you okay?”

She angled the rearview mirror so she could see more of the back seat. In the dim light, she could make out two shadowed lumps on the back seat, but she couldn’t tell who was who.

She started to cry.

Something rustled behind her.

“Mom?”

It was the barest of whispers, but she heard it. “Colton?”

“What happened?”

“We were in an accident.” She hoped she sounded brave and calm. “Can you see your sister?”