Submerged (10 page)

She tilted the rearview mirror so the light wouldn
't be in her eyes.

The truck hit them again, harder this time.

In the back seat Colton let out a yelp. "Mom?"

"
Sit back, honey. I'll find a place to turn around."

Branches whipped at the side o
f the car as she steered it deeper into the woods. She wanted to cry. Scream. Turn around and go home. But those weren't options. All she could do was follow the road to God knows where and pray that there'd be help at the end.

What did the trucker wa
nt with them?

She glanced
in the rearview mirror. Ella was awake now, playing with her Barbies, oblivious to the danger that was hot on their trail. Colton wore a fearful expression.
Oh God.
He knows.

"
It's okay, honey. We're―"

The truck slammed into them
. She heard Ella and Colton scream. There was nothing she could do except scream with them as the car pitched forward toward a dense wooded area and branches scraped along the outside of the vehicle.

T
he front end slammed into a solid mass, the impact knocking the breath from Rebecca's lungs. As rain climaxed into a crescendo on the roof, she was thrown into the steering wheel. Pain rippled through her chest and ribs, and she fought to stay conscious. Her vision wavered, distorting everything in front of her.

Colton…Ella…

Darkness engulfed her.

Chapter
Eleven

Edson, AB – Friday, June 14, 2013 – 10:30 PM

Marcus had a mere hour and a half left on his shift. For some reason he was feeling antsy. He blamed his edginess on all the coffee he'd had during his shift. Tiredness had crept into every joint of his body, and caffeine was one of few stimulants he could use nowadays.

Leo had given him a hard time this shift, telling him he should cut back on the caffeine so that maybe Marcus would finally sleep.

Marcus stared into his empty mug.
Maybe Leo's right.

He definitely felt jittery.
Last time he'd felt like this he'd been injecting himself with codeine. Stronger drugs had followed.

Look where that got you.

Quitting hadn't been easy. He still had cravings. He remembered quite clearly the sense of ethereal peace he'd felt while flying high. Nothing had bothered him. Until he found he couldn't function without it. Without the rush that burned through his veins.

He
'd almost lost Jane as a result of his addiction.

The phone rang
, and a small light on it flashed. It was an inner office call. Shipley.

"
Need something, Pete?"

"
Time for your weekly piss."

Marcus sighed. This game was getting old.

"Fine. I'll be right there."

As he headed for the men
's washroom, he wondered what in God's name had possessed him to promise a weekly drug test.

You needed the job. That
's why.

Besides, Leo
had suggested it was the only way Pete Shipley would welcome him to the center, and it wasn't like Marcus had a lot of options. His very public and humiliating suspension from EMS had limited his choices. Since he could no longer work as a paramedic, 911 was the closest thing to the rush he'd once felt working the job. He'd whizzed through the training in no time.

Now he was whizzing in a cup on command.

Suck it up, Marcus. You made your bed.

He pushed open the washroom door.

"Here," Shipley said, handing him a sealed plastic cup. "Make it fast. I've got work to do."

"
Urine my way."

Shipley gave him a tight smile.
"Good one."

Marcus headed for the closest stall.

"Keep the door open," Shipley said.

"
Yeah, yeah, I know the drill." Marcus glanced over his shoulder. "Wanna watch?"

Shipley
's face turned beet red, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Hurry it up."

Marcus
had to go, but he held it in and whistled one of Ryan's favorite songs.
This is the song that never ends…
It was from a TV show his son had watched when Ryan was a preschooler. The song was a never-ending loop. Fun for kids, but irritating as hell to adults.

It had the same
effect on Shipley.

"
Jesus Christ, what's that garbage you're whistling?"

Instead of answering,
Marcus continued whistling and finally filled the cup halfway. As an added bonus, he splashed a little on the side.

What
's a little urine between friends?

"
Hurry up. And can you quit with the whistling?"

"
I could," Marcus said, "but then I'd have to kill you."

"
Ha ha. Very funny. You done?"

"
What, this little pissing contest? Yeah. I think I won."

Shipley
's mouth was pinched tighter than a Scotsman's wallet. "Pass it to me."

Marcus planted the cup
in Shipley's palm. The man's eyes flared when he realized the cup was wet. Shipley used his fingertips to pick the cup up by the lid. He set it on the counter, washed his hands thoroughly, then picked up the cup with a piece of paper towel.

"
Same time next week?" Marcus asked innocently.

Shipley clenched his jaw but said nothing.

Marcus smiled. "Nice doin' business with ya."

The fury that rag
ed in Shipley left no doubt in Marcus's mind that his supervisor was imagining various methods of tortuous payback. He'd better watch his back.

Shipley
exited the washroom, leaving Marcus alone and somewhat dissatisfied. He washed his hands, stared at his reflection for a few minutes and tried to ignore the twinge of fear.

He enjoyed goading P
ete Shipley, but one day he'd go too far. And where would that leave him? Without a job. With no one to be accountable to except maybe Leo.
Without a life…or a reason to keep living.

Marcus shook his head.
"Enough of that."

He leaned in close, noting the bags under his eyes had deepened. There were craters in the craters
, and no amount of Prep H would change that fact. He needed to sleep.

"
No rest for the wicked," he reminded his reflection.

Then he went back to work.

Ten minutes later, all hell broke loose.

While Marcus finished dispatching emergency crews to th
e scene of an overturned oil truck, Leo was handling a fire.

"
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 dispa
tch 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, t
wo 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.

Chapter Twelve

Near Cadomin, AB – Friday, June 14, 2013 – 10:49 PM

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?"

"
No, but I feel her. She's―" Colton gasped.

Oh God…Ella's hurt.
"What? What's wrong?"

"
It's wet back here, Mom. On the seat." He sounded dazed, scared.

"
Maybe your drink spilled."

She had to get her children out of the car
. Now!

"
Mom, you need to call 911."

"
I know, Colton." She closed her eyes, trying to remember whether she'd put the cell phone in her purse or if it had been in the cup holder. Had she used it while they'd been on the road? No, she was sure she hadn't.

Her g
aze swept across the front seat and down to the passenger seat floor, where her purse lay, some of the contents scattered about like pieces of shrapnel. "I think my phone's in my purse, on the floor."

"
Can you get it?"

She reached out, ignoring the shooting pain in her fingers.
After a few tries, she gave up.

Ella let out a whimper
.

"
Ella? Are you awake, sweetie?"

No answer.

"Colton, check your sister again."

A few seconds later
Colton said, "I think she's bleeding."

"
Where?"

"
Her face."

Rebecca muffled a cry with her good hand.
"Wake her up. Right now."

"
Ella," Colton said, his voice breaking. "Ella, wake up."

"
Ella, honey," Rebecca called. "Wake up, please."

"
She won't wake up, Mom."

"
Okay, as long as she's breathing, she's fine. Do you know where Puff is?"

Colton rummaged around in the back seat for a few minutes
, long enough for Rebecca to start panicking again. If Ella woke up and realized what was going on, she'd have a major asthma attack. They needed that inhaler.

"
Found it, Mom."

She blew out a pent-up breath.
"Keep it in your pocket."

"
Now what do we do?"

"
Can you climb into the front seat?"

"
I'll try."

She could hear her son moving, the seat belt releasing, then a sharp yelp.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"
My leg's stuck. I can't get it out from under my hockey bag because the seat in front is pushing on it."

She surveyed the front passenger seat. It had shifted, slid back toward Colton.
At some point during the rough ride, his hockey bag had slid toward the back door, lodging between the front passenger seat and his legs, trapping his right foot beneath it. There was no way she'd be able to reach the lever to move it forward and release Colton.

Dizziness rolled like a wave over her body. She couldn
't help the small moan that escaped her lips.

"
Mom, are you okay?"

"
I'm a bit sore, but don't worry about me."

"
We have water at least," Colton muttered. "I saw on a survival show that we have to have water or we'll die—"

"
We're not going to die, Colton."

"
—so we have to ration the water bottles until we're rescued," he continued as if she hadn't interrupted.

She wondered if he was going into shock.
"We can do that, honey. Ration the water."

"
And any food."

"
Okay. Now let me think for a minute."

She
was pinned behind the steering wheel with possible broken ribs and a useless hand. Colton couldn't move because his leg was trapped. Ella was unconscious, maybe with a concussion. And Rebecca's cell phone was either in her purse on the floor or somewhere else in the car.

The phone was their only answer. She had to find a way to get it.
But how? She would need something long, something she could hook her purse with.

The hockey stick!

"Colton, can you reach your hockey stick?"

"
Yeah."

"
Good. Pass it to me."

She had to take the stick with her injured hand and gasped at the
agony this caused. Stretching her left arm over the steering wheel, she transferred the stick to her good hand and stretched as far as possible, ignoring the throbbing in her ribs. The tip of the stick rested on her purse.

"
You can do it, Mom," Colton said.

She hoped to God he was right.

Another wave of faintness swept over her. Her head felt thick, and the hand holding the hockey stick shook. How long could she hold out before she passed out?

The
purse slid inches closer. She prodded the handle, attempting to slide the tip of the stick underneath. "Got it!"

From the back seat
, Colton let out a relieved breath. "Careful not to drop it."

She pulled the purse up from the floor and over the passenger seat. With a deep breath, she reached out with her other hand.
"Damn." She couldn't reach the purse. The window blocked the other end of the hockey stick, and there was no way she could maneuver it enough. "I can't reach my purse."

"
Hold the stick up more so your purse can slide down it."

She smiled.
"You're a genius, Colton."

There was
hardly enough room in the front for Rebecca to hold the stick out and tip the end up. With a few light flicks of her wrist, the purse began to slide down the stick. When it was close enough, she switched hands and slipped the purse off the stick.

"
Got it." She let out an exhausted sigh.

Since she was pinned by the steering wheel, she had to
change hands again, although her right hand was numb. With her good hand, she opened the zipper and reached inside. She felt her bank book, credit card holder, lipstick tubes.
Come on.
Where's my phone?

"
Check on your sister again," she said, wanting to keep him busy.

She shoved her hand deeper into her purse. No cell phone.

When she was sure she'd checked every inch of the purse, she muffled a small cry. Where was her phone?

She swallowed hard.
"My phone's not in my purse. It must be on the floor somewhere. I'll check up front, and you try to wake Ella so you can give her Puff."

While Colton called his sister
's name, she leaned forward as far as she could. On the floor of the passenger seat was an assortment of empty bank envelopes and a notebook. She grabbed the hockey stick and poked at the envelopes. Nothing underneath them. She pushed aside the notebook. Her cell phone lay underneath.

"
Found it."

"Mom, Ella's wheezy, and she's
still sleeping."

"
Try to give her a puff anyway."

She wasn
't sure that would do much since Ella wouldn't be inhaling the medication like normal, but they had to do something to keep her breathing under control.

She tried to ease the tip of the hockey stick be
neath the phone, but it only pushed the phone farther away. What she needed was something tacky.

She stared at
the tape wrapped around the blade of the hockey stick. It was something the players did to give the blade extra support. Something Wesley had shown Colton. One of his good fatherly deeds.

"
Colton, where's your hockey tape?"

"
I had it." A few seconds went by before he shouted, "Found it!"