Chapter Thirty-One

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

COUNTDOWN TO ZERO HOUR 44 MINUTES

THE WINGTIP WAS all that was left.

It stuck up out of the water like a buoy, marking the location where the river had swallowed the rest of it up. The minivan was gone, the bridge was gone, the wing was gone, and R.J.’s truck was nearly entirely submerged as well, the cable attached to the inside of the van having acted like a boulder tied to the waist of a person tossed overboard. Only the hood and front cab of the massive tow truck were still visible, its front wheels resting on the riverbank.

Levon ran down to the water and began to strip off his boots and outer gear; R.J. climbed out of the truck and started swimming to the shore. Both simultaneously hollered to Frankie and Boggs to call for divers—the National Guard, somebody, anybody, just get divers here. The firefighters ran for the truck, but Frankie stopped, realizing Levon was about to go in after Dani.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. “You can’t swim!”

Levon ripped off his turnout coat. “I have to do something!”

R.J. stumbled up from the water, puffing out little clouds that hung in the frigid air, and stripped out of his own coat and boots. Rifling through Levon’s discarded gear, he grabbed the oxygen tank and SCBA.

“Stay here, I got it,” R.J. said, slipping into the straps of the harness.

“That won’t work underwater,” Levon said, struggling with his boots. “It doesn’t work like scuba.”

“It will for about three minutes,” R.J. said, twisting open the oxygen release. “After that, it’ll vapor-lock and the air won’t override the spring-loaded valve on the demand air supply. But all I need is three minutes to find them and see if we even got a ball game. So get us real dive equipment now, and how about some people who can actually swim.”

With that, he secured the mask over his head and dove into the water.

Damn, that’s cold, R.J. thought as he made his way through the freezing, murky water. The mask and on-demand breathing apparatus felt different from the SSA of his industrial-dive helmet, but for him, diving was like riding a bike—second nature.

Swimming to his truck, R.J. made his way to the back and found the cable that was still hooked to the van. Using it like a guideline, he pulled himself down into the Mississippi, equalizing the building pressure in his ears as he went. The water grew darker and colder, and R.J. began to worry if he’d be able to see what was down there at all. As he was wondering if he should swim back up and see about a headlamp, the outline of the wing appeared, like a ghostly apparition.

The cable was coming from under the wing, which meant the van must be under there too. From the side he was on, he saw nothing. The edge of the wing was jammed into the river bottom.

Bubbles rose from his mask as he swam over the top of the wing to get to the other side, careful not to cut himself on the charred shredded metal, when suddenly, there was a flash of color in his peripheral vision.

He kicked over and saw the red plastic of a taillight. He’d found the van.

As he pulled himself down, he felt the air in the mask subtly but undeniably shift; it was becoming harder to breathe, as the pressure on the intake had a little more resistance to it. His time was running out. He’d found the van, but now he needed to find out if anyone was alive in there, and fast. If they were still alive, they wouldn’t be for much longer.

But could they be alive? R.J. wondered. How? Surely there was no way that little boy and that firefighter had survived the fall. And the sinking. And the cold water. Even if they had, and they’d somehow managed to find an air pocket, too much time had passed. They were dead. R.J. knew it. This was going to be a salvage and body-recovery mission. And just as he was coming to that conclusion, he saw the little boy waving from inside the van.

Dani heard Connor call her name, but she was too focused on finding a way out to respond.

The van was lying on its side, the open door flat against the river bottom. The air pocket—approximately ten inches, just enough for her mouth to be out of the water when her head touched the top—stretched across the side Connor had had his back against all day.

Dani had managed to squeeze Connor onto the side of his car seat, which put most of his body out of the water. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position—but it was dry and that was all that mattered. She had to keep him dry. In water this cold, they had less than an hour before hypothermia killed them. But if she could keep him dry, his survival time went way up.

Of course, that was only if the air lasted that long.

“Dani! Look!” Connor said.

“Yes, baby,” she said without turning. “Hold on.”

The broken front windshield wasn’t a possibility for escape. Rocks, debris, broken glass, and metal blocked the way out. She could try to move some of it, but she was afraid to move too much. The van’s placement didn’t feel solid, and the thought of shifting the van and losing the air pocket was horrifying. She’d already tried kicking out the windows and opening the doors—the pressure was too great to do either. And she also knew the harder she worked, the harder she breathed, the more air she used up.

The reality of how much trouble they were in was setting in and the panic was taking hold. As she tried to brainstorm and figure it out, Connor called out her name again, and this time, her patience snapped.

“What?” she cried, spinning, her voice booming through the cave-like space.

And that’s when she saw the man in the water.

Levon paced the riverbank in his muddy stocking feet, not knowing what to do. R.J. had been down there too long. Something wasn’t right. Levon knew he had to do something, but as he stepped down into the water, Frankie hollered from above.

“You do, and we’ve got one more person to rescue.”

Levon knew he was right, but he felt so helpless just waiting. He looked up to Boggs and Frankie, who were talking on the radio. They spoke urgently but what they were working out, Levon didn’t know, because he wasn’t about to go up there and ask. If he was going anywhere, it was into the water to find Dani.

The seconds ticked on, each more excruciating than the last. And just as he was about to say screw it and go in, the water began to move.

Bubbles were breaking on the surface, growing more intense by the second. Levon stepped forward into the water, ready to dive under, when suddenly R.J. appeared, shooting up above the waterline. He ripped the mask off his face and gasped for air.

Eyes wide, mouth gaping, he breathed heavily, looking around in a stunned stupor before he focused on Levon. “Get me a crowbar and another mask,” he said. “They’re alive.”