At first he thought it was a road sign torn loose in the storm. Then the beam shifted, and he saw a sedan half off the shoulder, nose-first into the floodwater, sinking at an angle. One rear tire spun uselessly in the air. The driver’s side door was pinned against the current. Water churned around the hood in violent brown waves.
Arav’s foot slammed on the brake before his mind caught up.
The truck fishtailed slightly, then stopped. For one frozen second there was nothing in the world but the pounding rain, the hiss of his engine, and the impossible sight of that car being swallowed.
Then came the sound.
Knocking.
Faint. Desperate. Human.
It reached him even through the storm.
Fear hit him so fast it felt like a second collision. Not fear for himself. Fear for the sleeping child in the back seat. Fear of what could happen if he got out. Fear of what could happen if he didn’t.
“Damn it,” he whispered, but the word wasn’t a decision. The decision had already happened somewhere below thought.
He killed the truck lights, shoved it into park on the highest patch of pavement he could find, and twisted in his seat. Leela stirred but didn’t wake.
“Baby,” he said softly, touching her socked foot. “Leela. Stay here, okay? Daddy’s right outside.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Home?”
“Soon.” He pulled his jacket from the passenger seat and tucked it more securely around her shoulders. “Lock the doors if you wake up. Don’t open for anybody but me.”
She gave a sleepy little hum that meant nothing and everything. A child’s trust.
Arav grabbed the tire iron from behind the seat, shoved open the truck door, and ran into the storm.
The rain hit like fists.
Within three steps he was soaked to the skin. Mud sucked at his boots. The shoulder of the road had already given way in places, turning the edge into a slick, unstable slope. He nearly went down once, caught himself, and kept moving. The river was no longer a river. It was a force, a moving wall of branches, debris, uprooted weeds, torn fence rails, and black water boiling over the road.
The silver sedan shifted as he reached it. One horrible lurch. Another few inches gone.
Inside, a woman was pounding on the passenger-side window.
Her face was pale with terror. Wet hair plastered to her cheeks. Mouth open in a scream he couldn’t hear. Water had already filled the footwell and was climbing fast. Her eyes locked on his, and in them he saw the naked, unguarded knowledge that she was about to die.
Arav yanked on the door handle. Nothing.
He planted his feet against the current, brought the tire iron back, and slammed it into the lower corner of the glass. The first strike bounced. The second cracked it into a web. The third shattered it inward.
Water surged through the opening with a violence that nearly dragged him sideways. The woman screamed again, this time close enough that he heard it.
“Help me!”
“I’ve got you!” he shouted, though he had no idea if that was true.
He reached in. She grabbed for him wildly, not his hand but his shoulder, his neck, anything. Panic made her strong. The current made everything worse. He managed to hook one arm under hers and brace himself against the broken frame. Water poured into the car, pushing her against the seats, pulling her down. She coughed, choked, then fought toward him in blind animal terror.
“Listen to me!” he yelled. “You have to stop fighting me!”
But she couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t even hear him.
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