Cheryl Tardif - Submerged

He was about to turn around when a shiver slid over his body. All the hairs on his arms stood up. The sensation made him think of the cabin in Cadomin, the one he’d stayed in before Jane and Ryan’s accident. The one with the ghostly children in the woods.

The headlights of his SUV swept over something in the middle of the road.

He slammed on the brakes. Jane?

He blinked, but the vision of his dead wife remained. She stood in the middle of the road, pointing ahead as if telling him to keep driving.

Then she vanished.

“Keep driving!” he snarled. He’d deal with Jane’s ghost later.

The phone rang.

“Everything okay, Rebecca?”

“Yeah, if you call being trapped in a car in the river ‘okay.’” There was a hint of dry humor in her voice, but worry quickly followed. “The water’s rising, Marcus.”

Shit! That was the last thing they needed. “Are you still moving?”

“Yeah, but not as much.”

His bad feeling turned rancid. Rebecca had driven off the highway, into the trees, for God knows how long. There were a few lakes in the area, and the McLeod River with all its tributaries. The second attack from the mysterious truck driver could have pushed Rebecca’s vehicle into the river.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything before you left the highway?” he asked. “Something in the woods or along the highway, maybe? I need to figure out where you went off the road.”

“All I saw were trees. I’m not even sure I turned down an actual road. It could’ve been a damned footpath for all I know.”

Marcus gazed out the window as his SUV sped down the highway, his eyes darting from side to side. There were numerous unpaved roads and dirt trails that led into the bushes on either side. This was quad country.

“What about Colton?” he said suddenly.

“He’s sleeping.” She sounded like she was on the brink of crying.

“Maybe he saw something. You were driving, trying to see the road ahead. Maybe he saw something you missed. Ask him.”

“Colton?” she called, her voice stronger. “Wake up, honey. I have a question for you. Did you see anything when we went off the road?”

Marcus couldn’t make out Colton’s answer.

Seconds later, Rebecca came back on the line. “He says he saw pigs. Flying pigs.” She let out a sob. “Oh God, he’s hallucinating. I think Colton’s going into shock. I think you’re too late.”

“Don’t say that. I’m still here, still looking.”

“If you’re too late, I want you to promise me something.”

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound jovial, “we’re not doing this right now. None of this kind of talk.”

“Marcus, listen to me. Please.” He heard her inhale. “If we don’t make it, I’d hate it if you blamed yourself. You’ve done everything anyone could ask for and more. Fate, remember?”

“Fate’s a mean bastard,” he said between gritted teeth.

“I agree. So promise me, no blame.”

Marcus cursed under his breath and slammed a fist on the wheel. Then he took a deep breath. “I promise. No blame.”

“My feet are so numb I can’t feel my toes.”

He could almost taste her fear. “Hold on, Rebecca. Hold on.”

“I’m afraid to hang up. This might be my last call to you.”

He barely heard her words as something flashed up ahead. A sign! One he’d forgotten about. And carved into wood was a picture of two robust pigs with wings.

“Oh my god,” he said, elated. “Flying pigs.”

“What?”

“I found the pigs, Rebecca. Colton wasn’t hallucinating. It’s a sign on the side of the road for a pig farm. It closed down a few years ago. I’m close.”

A second later, Rebecca said, “Colton says he saw the pigs in the sky, above the trees. But that makes no sense if it’s a sign on the side of the road.” She was sobbing uncontrollably now.

“I think there’s a sign on the building. That must be what he saw. Hold on.”

A few yards ahead, Marcus spotted the dirt road that led to the pig farm. He’d been down that road before. With Jane. They used to buy meat here. If his recollection was accurate, the road wove down to the river and circled back to meet the highway about a mile south.

“I know where you left the highway,” he said. “I can see the road.”

“Hurry, Marcus! The water’s up to my knees.”

“Mom!” he heard Colton shout. “The car’s filling up with water! We have to get out!”

“I know, honey, help’s on the way,” Rebecca cried. “Marcus! Help us!”

Deep ruts were carved into the mud ahead of him. Two sets of vehicle tracks—Rebecca’s and a wide-based truck tire with heavy treads.

Marcus stomped on the gas pedal and sped down the road. He swerved, barely missing an uprooted tree that had fallen across the road. “I’m almost at the farm. I see your tire tracks. I’m almost there.”

The SUV bumped and jerked as he whipped down the road at breakneck speed. “I see the farm!”

Above the building was a silver weathervane that was lit by a soft light. The flying pigs again.

“Flying pigs in the sky,” he murmured. That’s what Colton had seen.

“Can you see us?” Rebecca pleaded. “The water’s halfway up my calves.”

“I’m almost to the river.”

On the other end he heard Colton crying. “Try to stay calm.”

Rebecca’s voice was thick with terror. “The water’s coming in faster, Marcus.”

The tree line broke, and the river appeared to his left, swirling and churning. But no car. He followed the road alongside the river as fast as he could, his tires bouncing in and out of mud-filled ruts. Don’t let me get stuck in the mud now!

Though he wasn’t sure he really believed in a God, he found himself praying desperately to a higher being. Please let me get there in time. Please, God.

He pressed the Bluetooth tightly to his ear. “Rebecca, I’m nearly there.”

“I have to get out. I have to get my children out.”

As Marcus rounded another corner, the headlights of his car swept along the side of the road, illuminating the river. Still nothing.

“Rebecca, honk your horn.”

He rolled down the window and leaned out. In the distance he heard something. “Honk again!”

Then he heard it, clear as a bell. “You’re up ahead.”

“Really?” Rebecca cried. “Can you see us?”

The first things he saw were two pairs of muddy tracks that led toward the river. He slowed the SUV and noticed a small but sharp ridge of ground that lined the riverbank. A burly tree had a gouge on one side and what could only be red paint was scraped into the bark.

It only took him a second to put the pieces together. This was the spot where Rebecca’s car had gotten hung up. It had been pushed up to the top of the ridge, where it had teetered, while rubbing against the tree that had blocked her door.

He maneuvered the SUV as close as possible so the headlights lit up the edge of the bank. This was where the truck had rammed her once more, sending her car shooting through the air toward the water.

“I should see you any minute now, Rebecca.”

He parked and jumped out of his vehicle. With the cell phone tucked in his pocket and Bluetooth activated, he approached the edge. His flashlight swept over the area. There was about an eight-foot drop to the water, and to his right, concrete steps led down to a rugged wood dock that extended twenty feet into the river directly in front of him. Something at the end of the dock glowed with a soft light.

And there it was—Rebecca’s car.

While attempting to escape the truck, she had driven toward the river, and the final impact of the truck had propelled her vehicle into the air. After a short flight, the Hyundai had landed midway on the dock, splintering some of the thick planks. It was now almost a quarter submerged, the front end lower than the back.