by Beth Martin
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “It’ll never hold our weight. See?” she said, pointing to the bridge next to them. “That one already fell.”
“And this one has held,” he added, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “If it falls, which it won’t, we can just swim.”
“In that water?” she asked, her voice shaky.
He looked down again. She had a point. The water was pretty rough, and they had no idea how deep the river was. If it was shallow and rocky, the fall alone would kill them. He decided not to voice that possibility. He took a slow, deep breath. “Trust me. We’ll both make it to the other side unscathed. I promise.”
She looked at him and gave a single nod, but her look of fear hadn’t receded.
“Do you want me to sit up here with you?”
She turned to stare at the river, not responding.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“You don’t know how to drive,” she said, shaking her head.
He shrugged. “I thought you might feel better sitting in the back. Maybe keep your eyes shut.” The bridge did seem a bit intimidating with only the low walls to keep vehicles from tipping off the side and into the dark water below. Leona was so on edge, he knew he’d feel better if he drove, even though he’d never done it before.
After another moment of silence, she gestured to one of the levers. “This controls the speed. The one to the right turns the front-left wheel. The matching one on the other side turns the front-right wheel.” He wondered why there were separate levers for steering the different wheels. He shrugged it off, figuring he wouldn’t need them on a straight stretch of road. “And that one’s the brakes.”
“So which one makes it go?” he asked.
Her jaw dropped and she physically recoiled.
“I’m joking.” He patted her back, disappointed that his joke hadn’t lightened the mood. “I got this. Now, do you want to stay up here with me or sit in the back?”
She stood and practically leaped down to the ground. “Back,” she said as she raced around the tractor. Once she was seated on the bench, she buckled the restraints over her waist, and he watched her tightened them to the point that they dug into her hips.
There wasn’t a strap for Roemell in front, but he shrugged it off. “You ready?” he asked.
“Ready,” she said weakly.
“All right. Let’s do this!” He pushed forward the lever which Leona said would start the engine, but nothing happened. Maybe it was stuck? He pushed again, but the tractor remained stubbornly quiet. Then he tried pulling it toward him, then left to right, then in circles. Nothing was working.
“I said I’m ready,” Leona called out.
“Just,”—his mind raced, trying to come up with a good excuse for the delay—“getting myself situated.” He stood, ready to put his body weight behind the lever, and pushed with all his might. It wouldn’t budge. He figured he had to be doing something wrong. Even Leona had been able to get the vehicle started. He started jimmying the lever every direction to no avail. There was no way he’d let a piece of farm equipment defeat him. In frustration, he kicked the lever. This time, the lever twisted, catching his foot behind it, and the engine sputtered to life.
The tractor began moving slowly. He pumped his fist in a small victory celebration before trying to extricate his foot. It was stuck. “Crap,” he swore under his breath. He jerked his foot back, the sharp motion jarring one of the steering levers. Now they were bearing to the left. He pulled at his foot again, which only made the turn sharper. Thinking fast, he wiggled his foot until his shoe came off. It bounced off the tractor and flew right over the wall and into the river. “Fuck,” he cursed, his voice louder this time.
“Is everything okay?” Leona said, her voice tight with an edge of panic.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he said, quickly freeing his sock-clad foot and shifting his weight to get comfortable in his seat. “Just lost my shoe.”
“How did you…” Her voice trailed off.
After he pushed the steering clutches, the tires squealed against the pavement, and he made adjustments until they were back on course. Only once they were pointed straight ahead did he push the accelerator lever forward, quickening their pace.
As the tractor went faster and faster, he took in a deep breath of air. The distinct aroma of fresh plants and flowers along with a bit of manure filled his nose. He enjoyed the wind blowing directly at his face.
The bridge appeared to be sturdy all the way to the other side, so he pushed the tractor even faster. Leona’s pace had been rather slow the past couple days, and he wanted to see how fast this thing could go.
He pushed the accelerator as far as it went, then stood up from the seat and stretched out his arms. Now he really felt like he was flying. He let out a loud whoop, for once enjoying his body in motion.
“Can we slow down?” Leona yelled.
“We can.” He sat back down and placed a hand on the accelerator. “I just figured you’d want to get across as quickly as possible.” They were almost to the other side of the bridge. He pulled back the lever so the tractor was coasting, though it was still going fast.
As he debated whether he should also pull the brake or let the vehicle slow down naturally, he noticed something ahead. A pothole. A really large pothole.
He gripped both of his hands on the steering levers then turned hard to the right, underestimating the wheels’ turning radius. He jerked the levers to turn left, and the tires squealed as the tractor began to tip. “Oh crap,” he yelled, but it was too late. The tractor fell, crashing into the low wall before rolling over the side and plunging toward the water.
• • •
Leona shrieked as her entire life flashed before her eyes. She could see her family sitting down to a nice dinner in celebration of her eighth birthday, her mother’s face when she had learned about her father’s affair, the time Ava had snuck away with a new lover and left Leona behind at a party, the smell of the roses in her grandpa’s garden, the stars in the sky the night of her and Roemell’s first kiss.
The snapshots of her life ended abruptly as she impacted the water. The cool liquid slammed against her side as hard as if she had fallen on cement. All of the air was knocked out of her lungs and she plunged down. Within a second, she had stopped sinking. Although she was completely disoriented, she was quickly able to recognize the surface by the rays of sun shining through the murky water. The river wasn’t very deep so she just needed to stand up, and she would be fine.
But as she moved her legs and thrashed her arms, the restraints dug into her hips. She looked down at her lap, trying to locate the buckles, but her movements had kicked up enough sediment to make the water much too cloudy to see through. She felt along the seat belt, trying to figure out how to unlatch it by feel. The buckle wasn’t a type she was familiar with, and she tried poking and prying it in every way imaginable, but it still didn’t release.
Her lungs screamed for air. She frantically pulled at the restraints, knowing that they were too strong to tear through. Black dots started appearing in the center of her vision, so she closed her eyes tightly. This was not how she was going to die. With all her strength, she focused on the metal connector, squeezing and pressing it with her hands, trying to open it through sheer brawn.
As much as she tried to keep calm, she couldn’t fight the oncoming panic. Life-giving air was so close, but she couldn’t reach it. Terror gripped her as she realized that this was the end. As the world melted away, she opened her mouth to take one last breath.
13
AS SOON AS the tractor began to fall, Roemell grabbed onto the closest stable object. Naturally, what he hoped would anchor him to the vehicle ended up being a lever which bent quickly to the side, throwing him off balance. As his body was flung out of the cab, he held on desperately to one of the bars, which formed the structure of the cab, and took a deep breath before the inevitable impact into the river.
Almost as so
on as his back hit the water, he was pinned against the ground, the tractor weighing against him. The bar which he had held onto was now digging painfully into his chest. He pushed at the bar as hard as he could, as his life literally depended on it. He groaned, bubbles escaping his lips as he somehow lifted the vehicle just enough to move out from under it.
Once free, he got to his feet as quickly as he could. The water was shallow enough that his head broke the surface while his feet were still planted on the ground. He gasped, his lungs filling with fresh air. His chest ached even more than it had after the plane crash.
He looked around, searching the surrounding area. “Leona!” he shouted. She should be just on the other side of the tractor. As quickly as he could with the growing pain in his ribs, he dashed around the tractor to the back. He could just barely make her out through the muddy green water. She was still strapped to the bench, her arms and hair moving with the current like a beautiful siren. “Leona!” he shouted again.
Plunging his head underwater to get a better view as he felt for the restraints and located the buckle holding her in. He tried to tilt the lever, which would make it unlatch, but the buckle was jammed. He stood up for a moment and took a few breaths before submerging his face again. He’d always kept a knife on him when he’d lived on the streets, and he sorely wished he had one now. Pulling at the buckle again, he was able to get it to open enough to jam a finger underneath. With it partially open, it only took a few more tugs to get the buckle to come apart.
Grasping Leona under her arms, he pulled her away from the bench seat and up to the surface. She hung limply in his arms, her lips an alarming shade of purple. He put his ear next to her mouth and listened for a moment. She wasn’t breathing. “Leona? Leona!” Shaking her body did nothing to rouse her. They were close to the shore on the other side, so he half carried, half dragged her to the grassy bank, ignoring the blossoming pain in his chest. Their soaked clothes left a trail of water in their wake.
He carefully laid her down in the deep green grass. Her face was pale, and she remained motionless. He shook her, hoping the movement would be enough to snap her out of it. “Leona? You need to wake up.”
Hot tears welled in his eyes and blurred his vision as he gave her another firm shake. It wasn’t helping. He carefully pressed against her chin to get her mouth open, and river water leaked out. When his family had been squatting in an abandoned library, he had read a book on first aid. He had never had the supplies or opportunity to practice any of the techniques, so the details were hazy in his memory, but he knew he needed to do something, and fast.
He gently tilted her head back, then pinched her nose before placing his mouth on hers. She tasted like algae and sediment. Breathing into her mouth forcefully, he was able to see her chest rise from the corner of his eye. He withdrew as water erupted from her mouth and she started coughing. Relief flooded his body, and he pulled her up to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around her. More tears rushed to his eyes, and he openly cried while saying, “I thought I had lost you.”
She weakly lifted her arms and hugged him back. “I’m never letting you drive again.”
He chuckled between sobs and gave her a tight squeeze. The pain in his chest was nearly unbearable, but the elation that Leona was alive made it easier to ignore. “I won’t, I promise.” Eventually, she’d see the state of their tractor, but for now, he was just happy he and Leona were both still here.
• • •
The rest of the day passed in agony. Leona’s lungs felt like they were on fire. She was angry at Roemell for wrecking the tractor, mad at herself for having been too scared to drive herself, and furious that the waterlogged tractor meant they would never get to the trial on time.
After her near-death experience, the last thing she wanted to do was drink water from the river, but water sources had been sparse Her stomach hurt from hunger, but other than grass, there weren’t any food options nearby. She tentatively sipped from the cup—which was really some part of the tractor that had been ripped off—Roemell handed her. She forced some of the liquid down, but couldn’t handle any more than that. It had a distinct flavor which only reminded her of her recent near-death experience.
Roemell was squatting in front of her, watching her like he was supervising her or something. The sun was setting below the horizon, making it hard to see more than just his silhouette. But his eyes glistened as he searched her face. She handed the cup back. “You should drink more than that,” he said.
She shook her head. “I already inhaled enough of it earlier today.” He stayed in place, staring at her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. “You can go away now,” she said.
He stood and walked off. Curling up in the soft grass—her clothes finally dry enough that she was no longer shivering—she watched him as he went to the water’s edge and refilled the cup. He drank three cupfuls before returning to his spot, the place where he had dragged her after they crashed.
She closed her eyes quickly, pretended to be asleep when he glanced over at her.
“I guess I should try to get some sleep, too,” he muttered.
She slowly opened her lids to make sure he wasn’t paying attention to her. As soon as he fell asleep, she would get away, even just for a couple hours. He had almost gotten both of them killed, and resuscitating her didn’t make up for how careless he had been. She needed a break. She needed to not spend every single moment by his side.
The bridge had large concrete supports, and she could easily find a soft place to sleep behind one of them. The sounds of the river were so loud, she probably wouldn’t even be able to hear Roemell. She could just pretend for a while that he didn’t exist. A pang of guilt welled up in her stomach for wanting to get away from him, but at the moment, her primary concern was herself.
As she tried to summon the strength to stand up and wander off, she caught sight of Roemell carefully prodding his side with a few fingers. He inhaled sharply, then grunted in pain. Since she had almost died, she hadn’t even thought to ask if he had any injuries.
He struggled with his shirt, pulling it carefully off of one arm, and then the other, finally slipping it over his head. He looked down at his bare chest and continued poking fingers at his ribs, more gently this time. The entire left-hand side of his chest was purple and blue, the fresh bruise spreading around his side and onto his back.
Tears welled up in her eyes as he took a few minutes to examine himself. Bruises that large and dark couldn’t be just skin deep. There were probably broken bones underneath. He struggled to put his shirt back on, then slowly laid back, inhaling quickly through his clenched teeth, until he was flat on the ground.
Her lungs still burned, but she didn’t have any visible injuries. She began to cry, but tried to stifle her sobs so he wouldn’t notice. Deep down, she knew the crash had been a mistake, and that she shouldn’t blame him for it. He had sustained some serious trauma and still rescued her from the water, yet she had been a total bitch.
As soon as his breathing grew slow and shallow, she knew he was asleep. She crawled along the grass, careful not to make any sound. She wanted to curl up next to him, but also didn’t want to bump him and cause any pain. Stopping beside him, she leaned down and carefully kissed his forehead. Tears continued to leak from her eyes as she watched him for a few minutes before creeping back to her soft spot in the grass and letting sleep claim her as well.
• • •
Leona slept so deeply, no amount of noise could wake her up. Naturally, she was surprised to awaken and find Roemell perched on the driver seat of the tractor—which stood upright just ten feet from her—loudly revving the engine.
“What the…” she said, her voice not loud enough to be heard over the unusually loud clanking sounds coming from their vehicle.
The engine sputtered and died. “You’re up,” Roemell said before carefully climbing out of the cab.
“How did you get the tractor out of the water?” Her eyes widened as
she tried to make sense of what she saw in front of her.
“The water receded,” he said, gesturing at the river behind him. “I woke up, and the tractor was just laying on its side on the ground.”
“Where did the water go?” She knew it flowed downstream, but the banks usually stayed the same.
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s a dam upstream or something.”
She continued to stare in disbelief as she got up to her feet. Her lungs still hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the day before. “But how did you get it upright?”
“Pure brawn.” He smiled broadly while flexing his arms.
She rolled her eyes. Only a fully charged bot could lift a machine of that size.
“There’s an arm thing on each side, I think to steady it in place. It was strong enough to push this thing out of the mud.” Not only did the tractor have mud clinging to the side, but Roemell was also smeared in dirt.
Her heart swelled. They might still make it in time for the trial. “And it still works?”
“You heard it! Purrs like a kitten.”
She raised a brow. That was not how she would describe the cacophony of clanking she had just heard.
“Why don’t you get a drink while I go to rinse off,” he said, holding the front hem of his shirt away from his body. “After that, I’ll be ready to go. I know I said I wouldn’t, but if you don’t want to drive, I’d be happy to—”
“No,” she interjected. “I’ll drive.” He looked so excited and optimistic, she could help but smile back.
After a few sips of water, she climbed into the driver seat and waited for Roemell to finish splashing in the water. When he finally returned, he said, “Hey, look what I found.” He held up a brown, droopy object that was dripping wet. She gave him a quizzical look, and he added, “It’s my shoe.”
“Oh.” She looked down at his feet. One had an equally soggy brown shoe on while the other only had a muddy sock. How had she not noticed he’d lost a shoe?
“Looks like our luck is turning around,” he said as he settled into the back bench seat. He buckled himself in before slipping on the prodigal shoe. “Let’s get a move on!”
