Page 155 of Just One Look

No answer, and she told her again, louder. “You need to get that baby warm,” she said, putting all her command into it. “Put him against your skin. Do it now.”

“Do I …” A hitch in the woman’s breath. “Take off her nappy?” Because people in crisis needed something to hold on to. Some detail to focus on.

“Yes. Take off her nappy. Take off your clothes on top, too. Hold her against you. Feed her, if you’re breastfeeding. That’ll help warm her.”Heat,she thought, her eyes still on Luka. She found the switch, cranked it all the way up, and that was better.

More movement. The hillside, crumbling. And Luka, taking those quicksand steps. Nearly there now. Walking like Mama had, right through the water, striding like a giant.

Oh, God. Please, no.

* * *

He wasn’t a man anymore.He was a machine. Forcing his body forward even as the weight of the water and mud tried to shove him into the guardrail, tried to stop him.

There was no stopping. It was the seventy-fifth minute, and he wasn’t a seventy-five-minute man. He was an eighty-minute man.

Long past aerobic territory now, and into the anaerobic. Muscles fueled by lactic acid, not by oxygen, but he had lactic acid to burn, and he knew how to do this. How to go on when you thought you couldn’t, because there was no choice.

Nearly there. Just a few meters more.

The mud sucking at his calves. The water pulling at him, trying to tip him over the guardrail. The rope tight around his waist, and the rear of the car starting to wobble now, because the water was nearly to the top of the guardrail, and the car was floating.

Faster.Driving his legs on. One step. Two. Three.

Hand on the back of the car. Pull yourself forward. Arms. Legs. Core. Every muscle protesting now, and his neck on fire. To the rear window. To the front.

A woman, and she’d moved over to the driver’s side so she could get out. Keeping her head, then. She must have seen him, too, because she was already dragging her upper body through the window, and he was pulling her under the shoulders to help. An effort, because she wasn’t as slim as the other one, the window wasn’t really big enough, the mud was sucking at him, and the pain from his neck was making him gasp.

Elle,he thought,don’t reverse. Not yet.One more step backward, like moving through setting concrete. Every muscle fatiguing, but that wasn’t an option. Another step.

The car rocked.

Pull, you bastard. Pull.

He pulled. And something ripped in his neck. He could feel it go.

Her hips were through, and he was taking another step. And the car heaved, rocked.

It went over the rail.

The woman in his arms screamed. His body slammed against the guardrail, sucked by the surging water, and he couldn’t catch himself, because he was holding her. He tried to get his footing, and couldn’t. He tried again, because there was no quitting. There was no giving up. There was only effort. His arms tightened as the water tried to pull the woman away, and he held on with every bit of strength he had.

He wasn’t going to lose now. Not possible.

Something else, then. A tug, and then a pull. He fought it, and then he realized. Elizabeth was reversing, the rope going taut.

Hang on,he thought. The woman was crying now, great gasping sobs, but she was trying to get her footing, too, and she had an arm around his neck, helping him hold on.

Elizabeth pulled them back. Meter by meter, dragged through the mud and the water. Drowning in the rain. Nothing now but hanging on to the woman, and her hanging on to him.

Meter by meter, until his trembling legs found purchase again. Until he was staggering, and the woman in his arms was, too, against the rushing water. Holding on, both of them. Just holding on.

Meter by meter, in the dark and the rain and the mud and the pain. Held by the rope, and Elizabeth pulling him free. Until his shaking hand found the bonnet of the big SUV, and he was standing there, one arm still around his passenger, the other on the car. Trying to get around it. Trying to get to the inside. Trying to get her safe.

* * *

She wasout of the car, flinging the back door open, grabbing the woman from Luka, pulling her back with her, shoving her into the car. Slamming the door, and going back for him. He had both palms against the hood, his head bowed, his hands shaking.

Passenger side,she told herself. He couldn’t drive in this state, so she was going to have to do it. She had her arms around him, was talking to him the same way she’d talked a thousand times to a patient who was losing the battle. Ten thousand times. A million times. “Come on, Luka. Stay with me. Get in the car. You can do this. Hang on.” Dragging him backward through the water, opening the door and pushing him inside. Slamming that door, now, and heading around to her side again.